


i don’t think of you (until i do)

by meimie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Jokes, CEO Park Chanyeol, Drama, M/M, Mutual Pining, Park Chanyeol-centric, Romance, Strangers (Idiots) to Lovers, Student Byun Baekhyun, horny and stupid (bbh) + just stupid (pcy), slight mentions of homophobia, that’s it that’s the whole plot, very minor sidexiuchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meimie/pseuds/meimie
Summary: The night Chanyeol came home to a stranger lecturing him about animal welfare marked the night his life changed forever.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> my 3rd (and finally successful) attempt at age gap! hallelujah. ミ(ノ_ _)ノ
> 
> • warning: tons of fluff. there’s going to be some angst as well (because i can’t help myself), but this is generally a very wholesome story. i wanted it to be lighthearted.  
> • toben. need i say more? ꒰๑ ᷄ω ᷅꒱ ✧  
> • chanyeol’s and baekhyun’s appearances are both borrowed from the Coming Over MV. i recommend giving it a quick once over before reading, since especially baekhyun’s character will make a lot more sense if you do.  
> • it goes without saying that i don’t own anything or anyone depicted in this work. it’s just fiction, so please be respectful and, most importantly, enjoy. ♡

** — SIX TYPES OF LOVE — **

**i. pragma**  
love that is driven by the head, not the heart

 

It all started back in March.  
  
Back when the first peonies stuck their fragile heads through Mother Earth’s grounds; when the dwindling snow, still sparsely dotting the surface as a last remnant of spent times, finally handed its scepter over to the next ruler. Winter faded away, together with its deathly association, and Spring was born. The season of new life and promise, of fragrant blossoms — romance, some might say. Chanyeol couldn’t have disagreed more.   
  
His ears were still ringing with his assistant’s words, chirping about how _the air seemed fresher,_ and _her steps lighter. Her_ _heart fuller._ He thought about it on his way home. In his car and up the driveway. Across his front yard. Led by nothing but an all too familiar sense of irritation, Chanyeol heaved himself across pebble and grass, happy bluebirds mocking him behind his eyelids all the while.   
  
That very same night, a boy like no one he’d ever met before entered his life.  
  
“Who’s there?” he called out, stilling on his porch.   
  
There was no way Chanyeol could have foreseen the repercussions he opened himself up to by simply surrendering to his curiosity. And how cruel, he thought — that, had he known beforehand, so much trouble could have been avoided.  
  
That even the smartest of people were always smarter after the fact.  
  
“It’s a ghost~! Ooh,” Someone replied from the dark, humming in an apparent smiling kind of way, “you will die in seven days~”  
  
Chanyeol instantly froze up.  
  
“I,” he eventually found his voice, “I think you’re mixing up your horror movies.”   
  
“They’re coming to get you, Barbara!”  
  
_Oh?_ “ _Night Of The Living Dead_ now?”  
  
“They’re coming for you, Barbara,” This time, an actual giggle arose from the bushes. Shaking his head, Chanyeol sighed and took a wary step in the direction the sound came from, an eyebrow cocked as he decided to humor the boy for a moment. After all, he did whip out some classics; Chanyeol wasn’t above acknowledging that. Or perhaps he was just so drained he couldn’t control what he thought, let alone said, anymore.  
  
“Stop it.” Swept up by memories of older, better movies, he tilted his head. Smiling sourly, “You’re acting like a child.”  
  
The boy seemed ecstatic to say the least.  
  
“Look, there comes one of them now!” he yelped, voice taking on a melodic tone all of a sudden. Chanyeol barely had enough time to turn his head, still mildly taken aback, before he was then pounced on by—no, not the stranger—but instead... his dog. Toben.   
  
Thrown off, he caught the poodle but not before skimming through his surroundings. Rather suspicious, Chanyeol’s gaze swiftly wandered to a man appearing out of seemingly nowhere, stepping toward him with the confidence of what could only be described an A-List celebrity, or a leader of sorts. As if he owned Chanyeol’s yard, as ironic as it sounded, the stranger stepped in front of him, arms crossed and chin tipped.  
  
With flaming red hair and a tattooed neck, he looked nothing short of troubling.  
  
“Here he comes now.” Softly, he finished their little role-play, droopy eyes twinkling behind golden specs. He was different for sure; Chanyeol recognized that the moment he allowed his gaze to drop, discovering heavily ripped up jeans, and up again to sharp canines peeking out of pouty lips. A bright, dangerous grin.  
  
“So who exactly are you?” Realizing he had been staring, Chanyeol diverted his attention back to the mutt snuggling into his chest. “And how’d you get in here? Everything’s fenced in.”  
  
No lies there — always one to go the extra mile to ensure maximum privacy, Chanyeol had high enough fences built around his home to keep away just about anyone, even the craftiest of souls. (Toben being a stupid, freedom loving fuck might have played a role in that too.)  
  
“Oh, it was easy. After running from the cops my whole life, I’ve picked up some tricks.”  
  
“... Excuse me?”  
  
Chanyeol realized it then; he was too tired for this shit.  
  
The other laughed, “Just kidding,” took a step closer and whispered “or am I?”  
  
Way, way too tired.  
  
“Just tell me if you’re a burglar or not.” Exasperated, his left eye briefly dropped down to his watch. 11:52 p.m it read. Largely inconvenient, seeing as Chanyeol had to wake up at 5 in the morning. “I’m too exhausted to fight you anyway. Just take whatever you want and leave.”  
  
“Wow,” came his response, “imagine being so rich you don’t even care about getting robbed.”   
  
“Please just—”  
  
“Don’t worry.” Stepping closer, the redhead grinned widely like he was intent on defying him. Only when mere inches separated them did he speak up again, “I’m not. And come on, as if I’d fight you.” His eyes wandered lower, zeroing in on stout arms straining against a stuffy tux. Chanyeol couldn’t possibly ignore the heat. “You’re such a big man... you could do anything to me. Not like I’d be able to stop you.”  
  
Swallowing around a mix of knots and saliva, Chanyeol found himself unexpectedly lost in the words tumbling out of the stranger’s mouth. He didn’t know what to make of them, so he did what any self-respecting 28-year old would have done.  
  
He turned away and changed the subject.  
  
“Why are you here then?”  
  
Again, that smile. “He’s been crying all day, Mr. Park. I felt so bad,” answered the other, scratching the dog who’d almost fallen asleep in its owner’s arms behind the ears. But, while that was adorable and all, the only thing Chanyeol could pay attention to was the fact that he somehow knew his last name. Not exactly the best sign, although it was to be expected. “It’s gotta be busy owning one of the biggest companies in Seoul, I know. You still have to take care of your pet though.”   
  
Silence.  
  
“Poor guy’s alone all day, isn’t he?”  
  
There was clear judgment in the way he was being looked at, Chanyeol took note of that immediately. Nothing he could deflect, but at the same time, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care either. Not right now at least. He knew all too well how he still had to figure things out with Toben, and Chanyeol honest to god did _not_ need some Twenty One Pilots looking ass to tell him that. Bringing a dog sitter—or a stranger in general—into his home was too risky though, considering his social status and the endless confidential files lying around all over. (Yes, Chanyeol was paranoid. He was allowed to be.) Unfortunately, all the people he trusted enough around his documents were either just as busy as him or wouldn’t touch a dog with a ten feet pole. Or both.  
  
That also explained why Chanyeol usually let the bundle of fur roam around his yard while he was gone. Probably how these two got acquainted in the first place too.  
  
“Look, if you care so much, why don’t you do it?” he eventually groaned out, totally unaware of the weight his words held. Apparently, he was the only one.  
  
“Do... what?”  
  
All he wanted was to sleep. He didn’t want to get shamed for being a bad dog owner anymore. He did that to himself plenty. All Chanyeol really, truly wanted was for the day to be over.  
  
“Take care of him. Pet him, whatever. Take him for walks, I don’t give a fuck.” Roughly tugging at his tie until it came undone under his fingers, Chanyeol spoke his next words with a strange amount of anger directed at no one in particular. No one but himself, that was. “You already know how to get in here, so you might as well.”  
  
Blissfully ignorant of how his words resembled those of a maniac, Chanyeol’s eyes dropped closed for a few seconds.  
  
He really needed a vacation — or two.  
  
“I mean, I guess I can do that. If you want me to?”  
  
“Sure. Help yourself.” Taking off in a straight line toward his front door as the need to pass out inevitably took over, Chanyeol turned to face the stranger one last time, “Don’t even _think_ of trying to go inside though.”  
  
“Yes, sir!” he nodded.  
  
And after that, there was no going back.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Needless to say, Chanyeol was regretting his decision soon enough.  
  
“Boo!”   
  
“Jesus Christ,” He could barely manage to keep his tongue above throat level before he doubled over, catching his breath. When out of the clear morning blue, a laugh emerged, “God—”  
  
Smug words cut him off. “Just Baekhyun is fine.”  
  
Sitting far up on the fence enclosing the building located in between (how the hell did he get up there, seriously), _Baekhyun_ dropped down the length of it as if the distance wasn’t significant enough to break both his legs had he been any less cautious. Any less graceful. Somehow, he ended up landing right in front of Chanyeol as well, leaning down to pat him on the back with a mock-innocent expression.  
  
“Sorry.” The boy snickered, rolling a lollipop around on the flat of his tongue. Chanyeol could tell he really wasn’t sorry at all.  
  
“It’s six in the fucking morning, what the hell do you want?”  
  
“Well,” Baekhyun only smiled, already on the ground to scratch a panting Toben’s belly. He'd ran over in a millisecond, Chanyeol realized in the back of his mind, not even caring one bit for his owner’s heart palpitations, “you see, you told me to take your dog for a walk, but I kind of can’t with the gate locked. I mean. I could try throwing him over it, but—”  
  
“You’re not throwing my dog over the gate!”  
  
“I wasn’t going to!” Baekhyun’s volume increased in time with Chanyeol’s, point accentuated by a strong huff. “That’s why I need you to help me out here. I’m asking for a key.”  
  
“Oh, hell no—”  
  
“Just for the gate! How else do you expect me to get him outta here? Or—” Pausing, a slight look of mischief crossed the redhead’s face for a brief second. It was soon replaced by a sad pout. From that alone, Chanyeol could already tell he was fucked — royally. “When was the last time he went for a real walk, Mr. Park?” Baekhyun mooned. “Don’t you want him to explore the world outside of your yard? Have fun like all the other dogs?”  
  
What a low blow. Chanyeol, groaning in defeat, felt his walls crumble under the current of emotion; the guilt flooding the basement of his heart. Apparently, years of slaving over purely materialistic things hadn’t left him completely cold, after all. Yet.  
  
“Fuck it. Fine.”  
  
Fumbling with his keys, he disentangled the one required to access the gate (and the gate only), a constant frown marring his features. Occupied and exhausted, he didn’t even notice Baekhyun leave his side for a moment only to then return with something long in his hands. Dangling in and out the corner of Chanyeol’s right eye. The instant he moved to hand over the piece of metal, he discovered it had been the leash Baekhyun was holding, previously laying somewhere around on his property, and that Toben was secured at their feet and jumping with excitement, causing Chanyeol—who was starting to feel more and more like a third wheel in his own home—to blink at the oddity of it all. It appeared Baekhyun wasn’t only strange but very efficient as well.  
  
Snatching the key out of Chanyeol’s hold, he headed straight for the street. Toben in tow.   
  
“You’re just gonna stand there or what?” Baekhyun teased after a moment, beaming.  
  
That smile of his was far from unconvincing, Chanyeol found. So, a weird boy and an overexcited poodle sticking to him like a second shadow, he soundlessly proceeded to follow, oddly enough not even minding the ensuing exercise that much either. Spring was really coming through with the fresh weather that day; it could have been one of the nicest walks Chanyeol had taken in a while.  
  
If it wasn’t for the very reason he took it in the first place.  
  
“You know, we only use leashes because dogs can’t hold hands.”  
  
_Seriously._  “What?”  
  
“I would hold Toben’s hand.” Baekhyun continued, a cloud of sincerity around him. “All four of them. At once.”   
  
Both eyebrows lifted in surprise and maybe (just maybe) a little, tiny bit of amusement, Chanyeol plainly brushed him off and carried on. He thought that’d be it. However, as it turned out, that was only the beginning of the endless quirks his new acquaintance possessed, coming in heaps — ceaseless amounts. The tip of the iceberg, if you will. And even though Chanyeol didn’t know for sure, he somehow could already tell with confidence that the redhead was going to be the strangest individual he’d encounter for a long while.   
  
Letting Toben lead him from one poop-pile to the next, Baekhyun suddenly stopped in his tracks.  
  
“Oh, look at that limo!” he yelled, loud enough to make a woman across the street jump in surprise. When Chanyeol followed Baekhyun’s line of vision, an expression similar to hers painted his face.  
  
“I wish I had one of those.” he added in awe.  
  
“That’s...” Mortified, Chanyeol approached the other to quickly pull him away from the parked vehicle. Second hand embarrassment was oozing out of him in waves. “That’s a funeral car, Baekhyun.”  
  
Another bright smile. “... Oops?”  
  
However, Baekhyun’s attention was mainly reserved for Chanyeol’s grasp on his forearm, not the car, something akin to disappointment settling in once he was let go so they could resume their route. Not noticing that, Chanyeol took another step forward. When he didn’t sense Baekhyun following, he stalled in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
Lifting a brow, Chanyeol checked his watch. As expected, he was terribly late.  
  
“Aren’t you coming?”  
  
“Oh,” Blinking as if he’d been caught in a trance, Baekhyun nodded hastily. He didn’t waste any more time returning to his bubbly self, so fast Chanyeol didn’t even notice the change, “sure, you first though. I like watching you from behind.”  
  
Gaping at the audacity, Chanyeol reluctantly did as he was told. Nothing else he could have done, really.  
  
Sooner than later, Baekhyun was back to walking alongside him. Bumping into the taller every now and then, he looked pleased out of his guts, every once in a while stopping to allow Toben his potty breaks, running forth and back. Like a child, but not quite. A question popped into Chanyeol’s mind.  
  
“How old are you, kid?” he asked, halting once they reached their destination at last. His eyes kept flitting back and forth between the giant glass walls, up the fifty stories of what encompassed his entire livelihood, the sole base of his existence. The contrast between the premises he called his own and Baekhyun, as obscenely unfiltered as he wanted to be, almost gave him whiplash.  
  
Finally cracking the lollipop he’d been sucking on for way too long, Baekhyun brought Chanyeol back to the present when he fluttered his eyelashes at him — something he didn’t have to but, regardless of conception, most definitely wanted to do. Quietly, Chanyeol mused again. Trouble. Baekhyun was so much trouble, he just knew. He could tell from a thousand miles away.  
  
“Why, Mr. Park?” he purred. “You wanna know if I’m legal?”  
  
_Oh, geez._ “I-I, no—”  
  
“I’m just joking. You don’t have to get your panties in a twist.” he laughed, but then switched again. From peppy and vibrant to sultry, still playful but considerably darker, so quickly it didn’t seem real at first. Way too suggestive for his own good. “Sadly, I’m seventeen. I’d still suck your dick if you asked though.”  
  
Chanyeol choked on his saliva, peering down at Baekhyun with wide eyes. Granted, he couldn’t say he was unaware of the looks he’d gotten throughout the morning, nor had he been blind to the obvious insinuations many of Baekhyun’s words held. Never had he been this blunt though. In fact, Chanyeol didn’t think _anyone_ had ever dared to be this blunt in his presence.  
  
Usually, the second he entered a room people tip-toed around their words as if walking across landmines. So this, without a doubt, was surely something else. Before he could come up with an appropriate answer (as if there ever was one), Baekhyun cut into Chanyeol’s prose, reaching inside his pocket to retrieve what looked awfully close to a pack of...  
  
Previous occurrences forgotten, he immediately went out of his way to pry, “You smoke?”  
  
But Baekhyun just smiled his toothy smile before he took one of the cigarettes into his mouth — and bit it in half.  
  
“It’s chocolate.” he winked.  
  
Speechless, Chanyeol simply and unhesitatingly left at that. But not before making a mental note to, once he’d see him next, end whatever arrangement he’d mistakenly gotten himself into. To delete that fateful night out of existence and memory. But he never did.  
  
Just like that, Baekhyun stuck around for a whole month.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

On April 15th, Chanyeol started to see the first cracks in his resolve. The routine Baekhyun created for them—or more like, pushed onto them—worked out remarkably well; it was easy, in a weird way. For Chanyeol, it was undeniably easy to have someone around to look after his dog, someone who didn’t lick his feet without abandon or demanded favors as payment for consistency. That was something Chanyeol noticed very early on with Baekhyun; he never asked for favors. He was reliable, only because he liked to be around Toben. That was it. His jokes were still obnoxious, his behavior questionable, but that was okay too.  
  
Chanyeol didn’t mind his presence.   
  
With the end of March, he and many others noticed, came Mother Nature’s rage; weeks upon weeks of rain and wind embraced Seoul like a dark veil tying all the lost souls to their homes. Chanyeol simply went about his day, feeling a little gloomier than usual, when he noticed he hadn’t seen Baekhyun in a good while. Immediately, the questions and notions began to pile up — until one certain night, he came home to the sound of weak coughs emerging from his front yard.   
  
Little did Chanyeol know, his actions here would determine an entire turning point in their unlabelled relationship.  
  
“Baekhyun?” he called out quietly, holding his umbrella tight to his body.  
  
“I’m here.”  
  
“Where—oh.”  
  
Halting with a start, Chanyeol tried to process the image in front of him.  
  
Right there Baekhyun was sat on his front porch, only partially sheltered from the pouring rain. Smiling languidly, he held Toben tight to his body as to shield him it seemed. The mutt didn’t look like he, even for a split second, considered going inside using all of the many doggy doors installed around the house, ears relaxed and eyes shut while Baekhyun snuggled into him, petting him closely. They would have looked perfectly peaceful, but Baekhyun couldn’t stop sniffling. Like a lunatic, he continuously reached up with his sleeve to rub at his nose and stifle his coughs, always coming in three, sometimes four.  
  
“You could have went up to the patio,” Chanyeol stated, deadpan, “there’s lounges and blankets you could have used to keep warm.”  
  
Baekhyun pouted at him, when another cough messed it all up. “I didn’t wanna cross a line.”  
  
“Idiot.”  
  
Chanyeol sighed, though the words did set off something pleasant inside him. It was a CEO’s instinct for sure; the need to be obeyed and followed. Honored. Chanyeol liked that about Baekhyun.  
  
He crouched down, reaching out with one hand to feel the other’s forehead. The umbrella was big enough to cover them both, and Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed in apprehension.  
  
“Dude, you have a serious fever.”  
  
“Ha.” Chin turned upwards, Baekhyun showed him his pearly whites for the umpteenth time. They were flawless. By now, Chanyeol would have probably been able to draw each and every one from memory with how often he’d been smiled at this past month. “It’s just because I’m so hot you can’t handle this.”  
  
Byun Baekhyun. Typical Byun Baekhyun.  
  
“No, this is like hospital level fever. You are going to die.”  
  
As if to prove his point, Baekhyun went into a coughing fit right that moment.  
  
“Let’s get you inside.” Pulling the redhead up by the crook of his arm, cautious as to not disturb Toben, Chanyeol went to unlock his door. Baekhyun didn’t follow at first, stumbling over his words—a continuous stream of _what? really?_ —before he skimmed across the last inches separating him from the mansion he’d only ever seen from the outside. Inside, he looked every bit as awestruck as Chanyeol expected.  
  
“This floor is just for display. Company dinners, events, people wanting to show off how I ‘reside’ in magazines. Stuff like that.” he cut in, shrugging his jacket off. Baekhyun’s eyes didn’t take long to refocus, now intent on watching the man standing with him in the prestigious hallway. Suddenly, he didn’t seem to care about the paintings adorning the walls or the marble floors. Roman statues paled in his eyes, but Chanyeol still kept going, “That’s why everything looks so perfect. I rarely spend any time here.”  
  
“That’s... cool,”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes shifted to the few buttons he unfastened, giving Chanyeol space to breathe. Apart from smiling, that was probably the one thing he did the most, right after gobbling down an unhealthy amount of lollipops.  
  
Baekhyun liked to stare — a lot.  
  
“We’ll go up to the second floor.”  
  
“What’s on the third?”  
  
“My office.”  
  
Mouth forming a perfect O, Baekhyun raised two brows. Another sniffle ruined his poise, nose scrunching up much like a displeased kitten’s, “An entire floor for an office?” he finally managed to ask.  
  
“I know, right?” Chanyeol shook his head. “My parents thought it was necessary. I built this place with my own money, but they still like to meddle. Honestly, I barely even need one room.”  
  
At that, the other remained unusually quiet. Once they stepped into the lift situated in between the twin stairs in the respective hall, Baekhyun directed his gaze up at the ceiling. He looked uncharacteristically contemplative, momentarily striking Chanyeol’s curiosity, before he spoke up again.  
  
“Thanks elevator, for bringing me up when I was down.”  
  
Chanyeol really needed to start managing his expectations.  
  
Later that same night, when Baekhyun was safely tucked away on the couch and his eyes drooping in concert with Toben’s, Chanyeol was once again gripped by thought. He knew it wasn’t his fault that Baekhyun was sick, but he sure played a role, and—contrary to popular belief—Chanyeol wasn’t an asshole. In order to succeed at what he was doing, he often had to play up certain parts of his personality, but at heart, he really wasn’t. He did feel things, and a lot of them. Deeply. So, even though Chanyeol was dying for some shut-eye himself, he couldn’t just do nothing.  
  
With that in mind, he found himself in his kitchen at 11:39 p.m, whipping up some bland chicken soup. The recipe had been passed down in his family for decades, and that was the sole reason Chanyeol knew how to make it. He liked to think he didn’t side with that many stereotypes regarding his lifestyle, however, when it came down to cooking, Chanyeol was completely fine admitting he never knew what he was doing. With his track record, he might just end up killing Baekhyun too.  
  
“What’s that smell...?” came a voice from the other side of the room, low and shockingly raspy. When Chanyeol turned to check it out, the hold he secured on his wooden spoon tightened so fast he swore he could have broken it.  
  
Baekhyun was lazily leaning against the doorframe, an old shirt Chanyeol had surrendered for him to sleep in falling loosely over pointy hips. The material hit somewhere below the middle of his thighs and no inch farther than that. Swallowing, Chanyeol had to forcibly remind himself the boy was out of his league — and that by over a decade.  
  
The look on his face though. Baekhyun knew exactly what he was doing, Chanyeol was fully certain of that.  
  
Thank god moral codes were a thing.  
  
“Something to help you feel better,” he responded, smiling wryly, “I hope at least. This might go terribly south.”  
  
Still in his office attire, Chanyeol rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and, consequently, started to cut up the vegetables. Before he knew it, Baekhyun was next to him admiring his work. (And maybe his forearms as well.)  
  
Pushing into his side, he reached over to snatch some tomatoes, when Chanyeol naturally slapped his hand away. A small moment of silence passed between them, one Chanyeol really should have appreciated while he still had the chance, before Baekhyun went in again with a vengeance, obviously taking the other’s opposition as a challenge. As if he were starving, he was adamant in his quest of stealing away as many ingredients as possible from the cutting board, snaking around each of Chanyeol’s sides, even reaching over his shoulders when his options began to run low. Unfortunately for him, Chanyeol was just as stubborn, and he did his best to fight him off while simultaneously trying to ignore the feeling of another guy’s hands and legs all over his body.  
  
In the end, Baekhyun was the one to give up.  
  
“You’re mean.” he sulked, sneezing into his elbow.  
  
The skimpy garment he wore revealed a plethora of new tattoos—some on his arms, some on his legs—Chanyeol didn’t know of before, all in that same cartoony style as the one gracing his neck. Colorful birds and Roman numbers, a good amount of stars. Rather brave, if Chanyeol had to say. He briefly wondered if there were any more hiding under that shirt of his. (He chose not to ask for obvious reasons.)  
  
“Just wait until it’s done.”  
  
“I don’t wanna!”  
  
_Ugh_. “Shut up.”  
  
“I don’t wanna do that either!”  
  
They continued to bicker for as long as the meal timer took to go off, eyeing each other from their respective places. Baekhyun was comfortable sitting on the kitchen countertop, and Chanyeol was comfortable watching him.  
  
Like many other things, that was unusual as well.  
  
By the looks of things, it seemed that Baekhyun ended up enjoying the soup quite a lot. Chanyeol, despite not showing it, was glad he did. The warmth he felt died off not too much later, however, when Baekhyun was begging him to sleep together, and Chanyeol had to basically wrestle him out of his bedroom only to then, once morning came around, find him laying face flat on the ground next to the couch he assigned him to. As he lifted him back into the blankets, Chanyeol reminded himself to (in the very unlikely case this ever happened again) give Baekhyun one of the wider couches, or switch locations altogether. He obviously needed it.  
  
With the purpose of getting ready for work, Chanyeol flinched when Baekhyun suddenly grabbed onto his hand.   
  
“Thank you,” he smiled stupidly, eyes still piercing in spite of them being only half-lidded, “for taking care of me.”  
  
“Don’t mention i—”  
  
Drawing him in by the sleeve, Baekhyun watched Chanyeol struggle to keep his balance as he caught himself on his palms, laid out flat on each side of his head. Impossibly close, he raked one hand up the other man’s nape.  
  
“You know,” Baekhyun whispered after several seconds, “I really don’t trust people who look that good with messy hair... just saying.”  
  
Normal was subjective, but Chanyeol couldn’t say he heard that everyday.  
  
“Are you naturally this much of a pain, or do you try?” he eventually forced out, heart beating in a craze. Way, way too close for comfort.  
  
“Only my best efforts for you, Mr. Park.”  
  
All it took was Baekhyun’s hand tightening in his hair, knee coming up to lodge in between Chanyeol’s legs, to make him spring off the couch and hurry to his bathroom, embarrassingly and senselessly affected. For the first time in a while, Chanyeol had trouble recognizing himself in the mirror.  
  
He should have known better than to let him inside.


	2. two.

**ii. ludus**  
a love that is played as a game or sport; conquest; may have multiple partners at once

 

For as long as Chanyeol could remember, he’d always thought of himself as a fairly rational person. As a kid, he rarely sneaked out, as a teenager, he rarely wasted his time in bars or pubs. Rarely drank. As an adult, he made sure to hold onto those very same values, except now he also had an entire empire to, quite literally, rule over. Whereas in his earlier days, Chanyeol had chosen to be a bitter recluse, now he was forced to. It was kinda annoying.   
  
Baekhyun on the other hand was the complete opposite — he was the fire to Chanyeol’s ice; the summer to his winter night. The cheap Tequila shot to his glass of Champagne, derived from only the richest of French salesmen. So naturally dissonant and yet more content than any of Chanyeol’s sisters and brothers asking for more, for bigger, for grander, and always too much.  
  
Out of all the matches made in hell, theirs had to have truly been the worst.   
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?”   
  
Lips pursed, Baekhyun shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As always, he didn’t look like he regretted a thing; in fact, the elder was starting to believe regret wasn’t even a word he knew existed.  
  
“Um... Toben wanted to see you?” he eventually responded, though it sounded more like a question. (It was a little bit sweet too, but you didn’t hear that from Chanyeol.)  
  
“He always does. So what’s your actual reason?”  
  
The fact that Baekhyun was right there, actually standing with his own two feet in Chanyeol’s office, was still mind-boggling to the CEO. Watching him mull over his words, he even had half a mind to just kick him out—since no one, not even the president himself, was allowed to disturb him at work—when all of a sudden, the door to their right flung open. In came Chanyeol’s assistant, Seungwan if he remembered correctly, immediately parading over to him with her heels clinking obnoxiously on the floor. With a sugary sweet smile, she fixed a firm grip on Chanyeol’s shoulder, eyes rimmed and round as she batted her long lashes at him.  
  
“Sir, I need you to look over last week’s report,” she breathed, pronouncing each word as if she were reading Erotica. Finally, her gaze fell on the other person in the room — and it wasn’t pleasant. Shortly, she checked herself, “pretty please?”   
  
“Sure. Give me a sec.”   
  
Giving her a smile reserved for business only, too perfect and way too many teeth, he tried to shrug the girl off, but she stayed put. Lifting a brow, he tried again. Failed again, and relented with a dip of his head. Since the beginning of time, Chanyeol found women too hard to deal with, with their touchiness and their glossy lips, their perfect nails clawing at his skin. His best bet had always been to just let it happen.  
  
Apparently, that wasn’t the case today.  
  
“Anyway, where were we—” he turned back around, expecting to meet eyes with his smaller counterpart, but... “Baekhyun?”   
  
He was gone. The sound of the door falling shut reverberated in the stale air, together with Seungwan’s giggles, not doing anything to bring Chanyeol the clarity he needed. Brushing her off for good, he left his assistant without another word and exited the room with something uneasy inhabiting the cavity of his chest.  
  
“Baekhyun!” he scowled, groaning as he watched the other’s back retreat through the crowd of employees. At his raised voice, everyone seemed to perk up, suddenly standing much straighter. Presentable, at last.   
  
“Fucking stop right there—”  
  
“What?” Baekhyun grumbled once he’d finally caught up with him, cradling Toben in his arms like he were a human baby, “Didn’t you want me to leave?”   
  
“I mean, yeah, but...”   
  
“Well, I am. Bye.”   
  
“Wait!” Once again stopping him, Chanyeol secured a strong hold on Baekhyun’s wrist. The feeling, smearing his rip cage in angry shades of red, suddenly traveled further down, settling in his tummy to create a nauseating mixture he did not enjoy at all. It was unexpectedly difficult to stay unbothered when looked at with such cold, disappointed eyes.  
  
On pure instinct, he squeezed Baekhyun’s hand, “What’s... wrong?”   
  
At his apparent display of vulnerability (to be honest, Chanyeol was surprised himself), the other seemed to soften a bit. Or quite a lot, actually.   
  
“Who was she?” he murmured. So quiet. If Baekhyun were any quieter, his words would have disappeared into the whispers around him, paled between the stares following their every movement. They couldn’t have been any more oblivious.   
  
“She?”   
  
“That girl.”   
  
“Oh. Seung...wan?” He really needed to work on memorizing his employees’ names, for god’s sake. “She’s my assistant. Annoying, right? The shit I have to put up with every day—”  
  
Quickly, Baekhyun interrupted, “So she’s just your assistant? That’s it?”   
  
“Uhm. Yes?”   
  
“No quickie on the desk after a long day? No blowjobs in between meetings? _Really?_ ”   
  
“N-No! I take my job very seriously.”   
  
As soon as those words rolled out of his mouth, Baekhyun’s whole body seemed to go lax in his hands. And Chanyeol didn’t want to admit it, neither to himself nor to the world, but he was relieved. So much he refused to let go; so much he went as far as dragging Baekhyun back into the direction they came from. So much he, despite his obsessive need for quietude in order to work, didn’t want the single loudest person he knew to leave.   
  
All that taken into account, it was impressive how swiftly Baekhyun went back to seeping out pure glee, holding up Toben to his face and peppering him with soft butterfly kisses. Spinning on the squeaky chair, round and round, until Chanyeol glared at him to stop. If anything, it was like having two puppies in his office.   
  
“It’s almost lunch time.” Once Baekhyun finally calmed down, just enough to sit still, Seungwan (?) stuck her head through the door. Her stare turned from warm to cold in a matter of seconds, depending on who she looked at. “What can I bring you, sir?”   
  
“I’ll just have some coffee. How about you, Baekhyun?”   
  
The other flinched, as if he didn’t expect being talked to, “Me?”   
  
“Yes, you.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “Who else?”   
  
“Oh. Okay. What... uh, what are the options?”   
  
“Bring him the menu, Seungwan.”   
  
The woman nodded promptly, but her smile seemed forced. On the contrary, Baekhyun’s looked so genuine and sweet Chanyeol thought it could have given a child a run for its money. Their expressions, though similar at first, couldn’t have contrasted each other more, and he did take notice of that. Regardless, that still didn’t distract from the fact that — yes; Chanyeol was right. Her name _was_ Seungwan!  
  
“Of course.” she bowed, leaving momentarily to return with a pamphlet summarizing what the restaurant on the 21st floor had to offer. There were several in the building, but Chanyeol knew exactly which employed the best chefs. After all, he’d hand picked them all.   
  
“Damn... this... is a lot.”   
  
Blinking furiously, Baekhyun frowned, seemingly lost in the contents. When suddenly, he looked up. Half flustered half begging, “Can I just get cereal?”   
  
Chanyeol couldn’t explain to himself why he felt so warm in that moment.   
  
“Of course you can.” he chuckled.  
  
Their day continued on the same note (apart from when Baekhyun came face to face with the selection of cereal Seungwan had brought him— _Honey nut cheerios_ one was unfortunately called—smirked, stared Chanyeol straight in the eye and went “I’ll honey nut for you”), and Chanyeol went home, feeling considerably lighter than usual. Turned out, having someone who was just constantly beaming around the dim environment that was an executive’s office wasn’t too bad. Maybe it even had its benefits.   
  
Following that day, Chanyeol never complained about Baekhyun visiting him at work again.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Earlier than foreseen, April too came to an end.   
  
Up until this point in the year, Chanyeol always regarded the transitions between seasons as something awfully bipolar; in spring, Mother Nature changed her mind frequently and without warning, similar to winter and fall, until May or June when the weather finally evened out to reveal the city’s best-kept secret: three to four months of long, glorious sun-filled days. Chanyeol couldn’t wait. Not like he had the free time, nor the will, to enjoy himself the way others around him did, but the office always looked nicer drowned in summer lights. It bit away at the tense air and, unlike with spring, Chanyeol actually didn’t mind his assistant’s pretentious thoughts, or her so-called ‘analogies’ too much. Though they would never be met with enthusiasm. He didn’t think Seungwan was stupid (she wouldn’t be working for him if she was), but she was certainly bending downward.   
  
That being said, the one thing that never changed no matter the season, the year, or even the briefest of seconds, was the workload. When Chanyeol said he took his job very seriously, he meant it. He had to. To be chosen from five siblings as the one competent enough to carry on the family’s legacy, and that as the youngest, left him with a sizeable number of expectations and a crippling pressure constantly dragging at his shoulders. To this day, he still hadn’t been able to get rid of it. But it’s become easier, he found. Particularly these past few weeks.   
  
Chanyeol thought it was convenient enough to accredit the change to the weather.   
  
Until that night.   
  
“Evening, Chanyeol.”   
  
That night, he finally looked at him — and he looked for real.  
  
(That night, he finally felt at home.)  
  
“H-Hey,” The upcoming company event, one so important Chanyeol had been planning it, fussing over it for at least one week now. All the hours of sleep lost to overthinking. The weight and the stress. All Chanyeol had to do was look at Baekhyun, and he felt like he could make it. He really felt like he could.   
  
“What are you smiling like that for?” One eyebrow lost behind his bangs, still red but slightly faded, the shorter offered an amused smirk, a lollipop once again bulging at his cheek. He was making things so difficult for Chanyeol.   
  
“No reason.”   
  
“Oh, really now?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
Any other day, he would have acted differently. Chanyeol would have never went up to Baekhyun, resting against the wall of his home with a baseball in his hand; he would have never seen him as anything more than unlimited acres of forbidden territory. A 17-year old boy with passerines on his neck and a universe in his eyes. He wouldn’t have hugged him either, but he did.   
  
“Oh—” Tensing in his hold, Baekhyun reciprocated within the blink of an eye. His fists on Chanyeol’s back felt terribly gentle.    
  
They stood there for a while, unspeaking, afraid their whispers could break the magic. Little did the two know the gods, watching with their crooked smiles, were feeling gracious and they gifted them their silence, something one could only find in the oldest of ancient books and the mushiest of fairy tales. Like a cover shielding them from prying eyes and the unforgiving open. Anything but their own two souls. Nothing, not even complete absence of sound, could have compared.   
  
Just as overwhelmed as he was appeased, Chanyeol experienced a sudden onslaught of fatigue, slumping against Baekhyun’s body. Only when he heard the dull thud of the other’s back hitting the wall did he realize he’d been spacing out, lashes fluttering against the feathery, soft skin of Baekhyun’s nape.  
  
Chanyeol found himself wondering. Had Baekhyun always been this... soft?   
  
“God, you’re a mess,” came a small voice from beneath him, comparably small hands reaching forward to try and hold his much bigger body upright. Failing, almost, “had a rough day at work?”   
  
“Every day at work is rough.”   
  
“Touché.” Baekhyun whispered, breath coming out in short, full puffs. Another minute flew by without notice, when Chanyeol suddenly felt something. Down below. At his—  
  
When realization hit him, his eyes assumed the size of saucers. Baekhyun, thinking quick, held onto him before he could recoil.   
  
“Relax.” he added, as if the fact that his hand was buried deep in Chanyeol’s front pocket was anything normal. To the elder’s dilemma, he took his sweet, sweet time roaming around the fabric, unnecessarily hitting a few sensitive spots here and there, before he went and retrieved the bundle of keys the other stowed there. Like the tease Chanyeol knew he was, Baekhyun winked, slipped out of his hold and headed straight for the front door.   
  
“Oh, no no no!” he cut in, sliding in between the entrance of his house and Baekhyun’s smug face, “You’re _not_ coming in.”   
  
Ever since that night a few weeks back, when the boy had been sick and tricked Chanyeol into feeling bad, he’d somehow managed to find his way back onto his couch more often than not. He even had his own spare toothbrush. A designated towel. It was about time someone put a foot down, but the question was, would that someone be Chanyeol?   
  
“Yeol...”   
  
“No. No matter what you do or say, you’ll never be able to change my mind.”   
  
Baekhyun just glanced at him — and pouted. “Please.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
_Fuck_. He knew it.   
  
Defeated, Chanyeol let himself be led through the door and into his elevator as if it was nobody’s business. It didn’t even feel that bad, Baekhyun’s hand on his own, as he continued to guide his sluggish body along the hallways, walls, around expensive furniture and eventually halted in the middle of an all too familiar room. Chanyeol’s favorite room, to be exact. _His bedroom_.   
  
Words of objections were already collecting at his lips, but Baekhyun had always been too quick for Chanyeol. He closed the door behind them, sat him down on the edge of the bed. All that within a timeframe of three seconds.   
  
“Do you ever unwind?” he asked then, softly, as he approached him with a feline pep in his steps.   
  
In the dark room aluminized by only the moonlight, the suckling sound seemed to at least triple in volume, obscene in every sense of the word. Chanyeol briefly wondered how Baekhyun was able to maintain such a perfect set of teeth considering his diet seemed to consist of 80% strawberry lollipops, but his mind was quickly stirred in a different direction when Baekhyun went and took a seat on, out of all places, his lap.   
  
“No.” he responded sternly, trying to remove himself. With no avail, of course. “If I didn’t have to sleep, I would be at the company all day. There’s nothing more important to me.”   
  
“Do you know how unhealthy that sounds?”   
  
“I do.”   
  
“Do you care?”   
  
“Absolutely not.”   
  
At that, Baekhyun hesitated a trifle. Plush thighs parted on his, Chanyeol felt every bodily reaction from the stiffness he expressed to the ultimate release, his swift fingers on his shoulders pressing away at tense muscles. Nimble and long, they were able to find every pressure point, drawing one heady breath after the other out of Chanyeol.   
  
“Liar,” he whispered, “your body is full of knots. Let me help you.”   
  
“You shouldn’t.”   
  
“Says who?”   
  
Good question. “Not me. Continue.”   
  
Baekhyun grinned at him, obviously more than happy to comply. His hands, however, weren’t content with only tending to one spot (though they were fantastic at just that, Chanyeol had to admit), taking on the brave journey of exploring outside just the shoulders soon enough. A couple minutes into the probably nicest massage Chanyeol had ever received in his 28 years of existence, he noticed he was no longer sitting. Baekhyun had taken it upon himself to push him flat on his back, the tips of his fingers working to undo the top buttons of Chanyeol’s shirt. Luckily for him, he was wearing neither a tie nor a blazer that day.  
  
“Psssht,” Stretched along the length of his body, Baekhyun placed a small, burning peck on the column of the other’s neck. Chanyeol felt like he was gonna lose it, “just let it happen... I’m gonna make you feel good.”   
  
It was just as unusual as it was mind-numbing to see Baekhyun this serious. This focused. It felt so right, but it wasn’t.  
  
“Baekhyun, I can’t... _oh lord_ ,”   
  
The words were ripped from Chanyeol’s throat; the logic stripped off his thoughts. All he could do was succumb to the sensation of his shirt wandering further down his left shoulder, instantly replaced by a pair of lips no longer wrapped around sticky round treats. As if he were his signature candy, Baekhyun dragged his tongue all over Chanyeol, sucking on his Adam’s apple, nibbling at collarbones and protruding ears. Until, at some point, Chanyeol had enough.   
  
He draped his arms around Baekhyun’s body and pressed his cheek into his, by now barely clothed, chest. Tight enough to disallow him any further action.  
  
“No more,” Voice a broken copy of what it used to be, what it was _supposed_ to be, Chanyeol pulled him even closer. Afraid he could do any more damage if he didn’t, “please. No more.”   
  
Baekhyun remained still but then wrapped his arms around the torso fronting him. Swallowing into bare skin, he breathed, “You sure? I can... feel you.”   
  
They could both feel each other, but Chanyeol was at least decent enough not to mention it. Something between a sigh and a groan escaped him.   
  
“Can I ask you a very fair question?” he proposed.   
  
“Shoot.”   
  
“Has anyone ever taught you the difference between right and wrong?”   
  
As if deeply amused by his words, Baekhyun wriggled his head out of Chanyeol’s hold to fully face him. How his smile still managed to look so clean after what he’d just pulled would always remain a mystery to Chanyeol.   
  
“Don’t misunderstand. I know the difference.” _Oh?_  “Wrong is the fun one.”   
  
Of course.   
  
“You think so too, don’t you?” added Baekhyun.   
  
“How’d you come to that conclusion?”   
  
Despite himself, Chanyeol felt like he was being looked right through. His fears were confirmed when Baekhyun leaned in again, pressing his lips to his jaw for the last time that night. And forever, hopefully. Chanyeol didn’t feel like he’d survive otherwise.   
  
“The eyes, Yeol. They never lie.”

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol woke up to the sound of Baekhyun falling off his bed.   
  
“Not again.” he grumbled, limply lifting himself out of the sheets. Once again amazed at the fact that someone could sleep through something so impactful—literally—Chanyeol lugged the deadweight back onto the mattress, shrugging off his shirt meanwhile. It was hanging on by the last thread anyway.   
  
“How the hell does this keep happening...?”   
  
Sighing, he gulped at the image of Baekhyun laying peacefully beside him for an entire .5 seconds. Then, as if to answer his question, he began rolling around, away from him, throwing arms and legs, until Chanyeol felt like his only choice was to somehow secure him, or else he’d most definitely end up on the floor again.  
  
Never before had Chanyeol seen someone move like that while asleep.   
  
“Wake up, weirdo,” he slapped an arm around Baekhyun’s wriggling form, ignoring how lovely his waist felt in his hand, “you’re being annoying. And you’re snoring.”   
  
“M’not snoring...” Surprisingly, he got a response, “I’m dreaming I’m a motorcycle.”   
  
Chanyeol actually laughed at that. What was happening to him?   
  
“Good morning.” Still pondering over what’d just happened, Baekhyun’s greeting didn’t register with the other at first. A few seconds passed before their eyes found each other, austere against soft, and smiley.   
  
“Morning.” he finally answered, somewhat scared. Anything Baekhyun related felt, in a way, scary. His lips, puckered and wet with saliva, weren’t so innocent to Chanyeol anymore. He knew how they felt now.   
  
“What are you thinking about?”  
  
Cutting through his thoughts, the redhead rubbed at his eyes with two sweater paws. He looked fucking cute, and Chanyeol was fucking fucked.   
  
“Nothing,” he faltered. Too weak.  
  
“If you say so.” Blinking in a sleepy daze, Baekhyun reached out for him with one arm. When Chanyeol was about to pull away and get up, he hit him with the lethal pout again, a knowing look bubbling behind begging eyes, “I wanna cuddle? Please?”   
  
What was he supposed to do? Say _no?_ To _that?_  
  
“How about we don’t and say we did?”  
  
“What if we do and say we didn’t?”   
  
“... Alright.”  
  
Well, at least he tried.   
  
Baekhyun pushed himself into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck as if he always belonged there, inhaling in a way that gave the taller a severe case of whole-body-shivers. Goosebumps strewn across his skin, Chanyeol closed his eyes, brain running a hundred miles per hour. In all honesty, this felt nice. And as far as he was concerned, they weren’t doing anything naughty, so it wasn’t wrong either. It sure as hell didn’t feel like it was.   
  
Uncaring, for now at least, he buried his face in Baekhyun’s hair, “You know,” mumbled Chanyeol, “now that I think about it, I don’t know anything about you.”   
  
“My name is Baekhyun, I love the number 11, children and babies, dogs, the color red, my birthstone is emerald, my blood type is O, I’ve once eaten twenty cold hot pockets in one sitting, my favorite brand of toilet paper is—”  
  
“I take it back. Shut up.” But really, he didn’t want him to. “What I mean is, I feel like you’re always here. Don’t you have school or something? College?”   
  
That seemed to strike a nerve, as Baekhyun suddenly moved back to lay on his flank. He appeared entirely wary to look at Chanyeol. (Which was a weird first, to say the least.)   
  
“I go to school... sometimes.” he muttered.  
  
“What do you mean, _sometimes_?” Holding himself up on one forearm, Chanyeol rolled onto his side. His shirtlessness somehow slipped him completely. “Education is important, Baekhyun.”   
  
“Easy for you to say, Mr. MBA.”   
  
“Wh—”  
  
“Look,” His eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed in reluctance. Like a kid, Baekhyun huffed at the ceiling, “I’m not the brightest tool in the... toolbox, okay?”   
  
“I can tell.” He turned to look at him then, genuine doubt swirling in those deep eyes of his, droopy as always and slightly swollen with slumber. Chanyeol wished he would have said something different, “I-I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“Sure you didn’t.”   
  
The following chain of events, charmed by years of finally quenched sleep deprivation and an unfamiliar feeling, guilt perhaps, was far from anything Chanyeol would have expected himself to ever do for anyone. Anything at all. He reached out, yanked Baekhyun’s back into his chest, he hugged him close — and apologized.   
  
“I really didn’t. I’m sorry.” he sighed. The words felt foreign on his tongue. “I’m sure there’s a brain hiding somewhere in there.”   
  
Baekhyun scoffed, peeking over his shoulder to see what kind of expression the ever-so-stoic CEO wore in correlation with those words. He was met with a rueful smile, one on the verge of falling since Baekhyun’s gaze, heavy as it was, never left, fixed on Chanyeol’s lips and his lips alone.   
  
“Anyway,” Feeling uncharacteristically flustered, the taller of the two had to look away, “please go to school.”   
  
Baekhyun didn’t respond at first.   
  
“You know there’s no way I’d do something so productive.”   
  
“For me?” Chanyeol didn’t know what drove him to say that, but it seemed to be effective enough. With a scowl, Baekhyun salvaged another lollipop from his pants (which Chanyeol just now realized he’d slept in), apple green for a change, popping it into his mouth after removing the plastic wrapper. The thing didn’t hold up too well after being squished all night, but Baekhyun didn’t appear to mind, stubbornly munching into the arsenal of pillows below their heads.  
  
Eventually, he relented. “Fine.”   
  
Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile.   
  
That day, he came into work later than ever before. (Happier, too.)

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

In a world of duplicity, it was easy to get lost. To walk through a door and come out an entirely different person, turned inside out by a stranger’s hand, and say it was okay. Say you didn’t mind the treachery and the deceit; that your innocence was just a burden and you didn’t miss the way bodies used to become sound, and light, around you. Possessed by a set of values based in spite alone, pride slowly lost all meaning as opportunities increased in lieu. All it took was the complete removal of one’s ethics.  
  
The willingness to give up any- and everything.  
  
For Chanyeol, it came rather naturally. He always wanted to win, to be better than anyone else around him, and to laugh on his way there. Maybe had his surroundings been different growing up, he would have turned out nicer. But Chanyeol’s parents always wanted an arrogant son.  
  
So he followed. Muzzled and pliant, he let himself be ruined.   
  
No one ever stayed for him, and he didn’t stay for anyone. He waited for nothing, and nothing waited for him. That’s where Baekhyun entered the picture.   
  
_“I’m bored.”_ he whined, voice unbearably loud through the speaker of Chanyeol’s phone.   
  
Not in a thousand years would the 28-year old have expected the one person to not leave him to end up being the dumbest human being he’d ever met. Life surely liked to work in strange ways.   
  
“Didn’t I tell you that calling me is for emergencies only?”   
  
_“Yes, I know, but—”_  
  
A voice interrupted Baekhyun’s sulking, raised and gravelly enough to catch Chanyeol off guard. It had to be a man, he guessed, one who presumably had one too many cigarettes in his time. Slightly uneasy, Chanyeol subconsciously gripped his pen a tad tighter, “Where are you?”   
  
_“Hell, I think.”_  
  
This time, he could actually make the other person’s words out. _“Why am I hearing talking?!”_ — something along those lines. When Baekhyun responded, realization struck Chanyeol like a thousand bricks.   
  
_“I don’t know, maybe because you have ears!”_ he countered. (Dear lord.)  
  
“When I told you to focus on your studies, this isn’t what I meant, Baekhyun!”   
  
_“What do you expect me to do then? Just sit here and do_ _nothing_ _?”_  
  
“Uh? Yes?!”   
  
_“Well, fuck me sideways because this sucks ass.”_  
  
The teacher’s volume increased dramatically at the profanity, and Chanyeol could feel his pulse pick up from second hand embarrassment. If only he could pass that on to Baekhyun, it’d surely do him some good.   
  
“I’m gonna hang up now.” After giving it another thought, a careful one, he added, “If you get in trouble, pass them my number. I’ll... I’ll bail you out.”   
  
_“Awe. Thanks, dad.”_  
  
“Oh my god. Bye.” Slapping himself across the forehead, Chanyeol asked himself for not the first time why he didn’t just exile Baekhyun from his life. Nothing connected them, and it would be as easy as flipping a switch to get rid of him. But he couldn’t. Somehow, Chanyeol just couldn’t bring himself to do it.   
  
Briefly, a word he used to connect to Baekhyun all the time a few months back popped into his head, jumping up and down his mind, warning symbols strapped across the letters. Trouble. Baekhyun used to be so much trouble. Maybe he still was.   
  
Maybe Chanyeol just didn’t want to be rational anymore. 


	3. three.

**iii. storge  
**an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, based on similarity

 

It was June and Baekhyun, apparently, no longer 17.   
  
As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been 17 for quite some time now, but of course no one thought to tell Chanyeol that. He had to reach into his own memory, back to when the parasite mentioned his birthstone to him, and do the mental gymnastics himself (aka google) to find out he must have turned 18 at some point in May. Why Baekhyun didn’t mention his birthday to him when he hung around his house basically all the time was a question Chanyeol found so baffling he physically couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
  
“I just didn’t think you’d care,” was his response, nonchalant as no other. Meanwhile, Toben was laying on top of Baekhyun, probably the happiest either of the two had ever seen him. Cute, devastatingly so — but completely irrelevant in the great scheme of things since Baekhyun just hit Chanyeol with the single most uncharacteristic combination of words there ever was.  
  
“It’s just a normal day anyway,” he added, shrugging, “who gives a fuck?”   
  
“That’s... way too reasonable to come from someone like you.”   
  
Baekhyun just beamed at him, “What can I say? I’m like an onion. Made up of lots and lots of layers!” His smile changed then, still bright but in a different way, as he raked his eyes over Chanyeol’s body, “Say, why don’t you come peel me sometime?”   
  
He really should have just left at that point.  
  
“No, thank you.”   
  
“Come on.” Grinning like he was plotting something, Baekhyun removed Toben from his belly before crawling to the other end of the couch on all fours, giving the taller man a much-too-generous view down the front of his shirt. It was way too big on him. Probably because it was Chanyeol’s. “You wouldn’t even have to go to jail if we did it now.”   
  
“Are you flirting or picking a fight?”   
  
“Both. Always.” Baekhyun cocked a brow. “You should know that by now.”   
  
He was just going to climb into the other’s lap, when Chanyeol leapfrogged him by jamming a flat palm to the side of his face. That, within the blink of an eye, kickstarted one of their usual—and absurdly frequent—wrestling sessions, quite literally a push and pull, until Baekhyun eventually managed to successfully fling himself on top of Chanyeol. The momentum would have knocked both of them to the floor, if it weren’t for each party’s quick reaction time.   
  
Chest heaving, Chanyeol threw his head back, the speed of his heartbeat syncing up with Baekhyun’s. Front to front, it was incredibly easy to assess the other’s state; occasionally, it worked out in someone’s favor. Today, it didn’t. They were both equally spent.   
  
“You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” he groaned, one hand naturally finding its way up the redhead’s back.   
  
“Stop complaining, old man. The exercise is good for you.” came his reply, similarly forced. “You know what else is good for you and burns 6.4 calories per minute?”  
  
“Don’t even say it.”   
  
With Baekhyun, one could never win. Chanyeol knew that the second he shushed him, the reason being simple and plain; Baekhyun just wouldn’t be Baekhyun if he didn’t always find a way. Either through his words or his actions.   
  
“Let me ask you this then.” he offered. “Truth or dare?”  
  
One part curious three exasperated, Chanyeol felt his chest tighten at the heat of the stare thrown his way. He really, really should have left then.   
  
“Truth.”   
  
“Do you wanna kiss me?”   
  
_Fucking hell._ “Dare.”   
  
Baekhyun leaned in at that, reducing the distance between them to mere inches, “I dare you to kiss me.”   
  
“Never have I ever—”  
  
“That’s not the game!”   
  
Dropping his head onto Chanyeol’s shoulder with a whiny moan, Baekhyun appeared to surrender at last. Not only that, he actually fell asleep like that, grumpily napping on the other’s stiff chest for about two more hours before Chanyeol grew tired as well, dragging the two of them to bed with a maybe slightly pleased sigh. Blame him for bringing this upon himself, but turned out sleeping with another person was actually the coziest, warmest thing Chanyeol had been introduced to in a hot minute.   
  
As he watched Baekhyun snore quietly in the sheets beside him, he remembered the look on his face when he’d asked him about his birthday. He covered it up well, but as someone who basically built a career on the ability to see through frauds, Chanyeol thought it was as obvious as a small cloud to the summer sky. He was hurting. So faintly, and so vividly. Completely unwilling to reach out.   
  
With that in mind, Chanyeol picked up the phone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


— ♡°◌

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[06/22/19;11:07A.M] to: Byun Baekhyun  
> _Come by my office if you’re free. I’ve got something for you.  
  
_[06/22/19;11:08A.M] from: Byun Baekhyun  
> _oojjfj  
_> _oo k  
_> _wasoit what iit  
  
_[06/22/19;11:08A.M] to: Byun Baekhyun  
> _?  
  
_Staring at the display of his phone, Chanyeol frowned into his palm. The words were entirely indiscernible. Usually, Baekhyun’s texts were clearer (though not by a big shot) — was he drunk? Drugged perhaps? Kidnapped?   
  
[06/22/19;11:25A.M] from: Byun Baekhyun  
_> sorry i couldn’t text you something more coherent  
__> a small child was kicking my ass at connect four  
  
_Figures.  
  
[06/22/19;11:26A.M] from: Byun Baekhyun  
> _i’m omw now!! (_ ⁎˃ᆺ˂ _) don’t be too excited    
  
_Chanyeol acknowledged the message, sighing desolately. It seemed like that’s all he’d been doing these days; sighing and wondering. Grumbling and groaning. Thinking and thinking. And then some more. It didn’t help that he was, on top of everything else, still working tirelessly on that company event he’d been planning for probably a good month now—a lavish party intended to bring a big, foreign partner into the Park household—for he would not rest unless perfection was attained, but it never was. Chanyeol didn’t fool himself into believing he could ever come near, but he knew how much he wanted to. In a selfish, childish way.   
  
Nothing came in between him and that need except for — who would have thought, Byun Baekhyun of course. Suspiciously close, he treaded along Chanyeol’s responsibilities like a curse, a numbing disease, until all he could do was surrender. Say yes, and just get it over with.  
  
That’s exactly what Chanyeol hoped to do today.   
  
“What... happened to you?”   
  
Peering down at the shorter man, splotches of paint on his white collar, dirt on knees and elbows, he almost forgot what he called him there for. Feathers weren’t the only thing caught in Baekhyun’s hair.   
  
“Sorry,” he responded, a sheepish hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “I was babysitting and got so excited because of your message that I forgot to change.”   
  
“You have siblings?” Now, that was something new at least.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“How many?”   
  
“A few. Anyway,” Obviously intent on changing the subject, Baekhyun took a step forward, curious as he scanned every corner of the room. He grinned, eyes wide, “did you get another dog? Please say you got another dog—”  
  
“I didn’t get another dog.” Chanyeol was starting to feel a bit nervous now. “I did get something though. It’s late, but I wanted to give you a birthday present.”   
  
And as easy as that, the room fell silent.  
  
“A... wait, what?”   
  
“You’ve been really helpful with Toben,” he explained, strangely timid in both tone and body language, “he used to be so much trouble, peeing everywhere and destroying furniture out of boredom. You being around has turned him completely upside down,” Maybe not just him.“and it’s taken a lot of stress off my shoulders. So I want you to take this as a token of my gratitude.”   
  
Even now, Toben simply being there resting silently in the corner of Chanyeol’s office was alien. Without Baekhyun tiring him out, playing with him and loving on him endlessly, that would have never been possible.   
  
“Ch-Chanyeol... I...”   
  
He held out a small plastic bag, so much more anxious than his voice let on. That’s when Chanyeol noticed something.   
  
“Hey, you don’t have to cry, you know...” he murmured, starry eyed as he observed Baekhyun hold onto the ziplock bag with a quivering lip. When he didn’t react, Chanyeol opened it for him, lowering his hand inside to reveal the contents.  
  
“One of my sisters runs a candy factory. So I had her custom make these.” Pulling one of the lollipops out, Baekhyun’s glassy gaze followed each of Chanyeol’s movements as if he were holding onto his very own personal bible. The first tear rolled down his cheek when he tore off the wrapper, “Look. They’ve got Toben’s face on them.”   
  
Small puppy snouts, almost cute enough to challenge the original, were pressed superbly across the surface of each unit. Yoora had looked at her brother like he’d grown a second head when he put in the request, but in the end, his intuition reigned supreme again. Baekhyun looked both ecstatic with happiness and troubled with emotion. Seeing him so vulnerable, Chanyeol thought, was kind of nice too.  
  
“I wanted to put mine on some as well,” he added after a moment, a weak attempt at lightening the atmosphere, “but my sister said that was a douchebag move, so I didn’t.”   
  
“What a shame.” And it worked — a bit too well maybe. “I would’ve sucked you off all day.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Baek...”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun smiled, eyes glittering with unshed tears, “I’m just so shocked, I don’t know what I’m saying.” he continued, voice cracking midsentence. Any sarcastic response Chanyeol could have come up with was tipped off his tongue, slipping into oblivion when he was pulled into a warm, bone-crushing hug, the clutched candy crumpling at the small of his back, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.”   
  
Baekhyun was absolutely filthy, but Chanyeol didn’t mind. He hugged him back.   
  
“Glad you like it.”   
  
“I do. I really do,” Sniveling again, the redhead removed the glasses he only rarely wore, more one to opt for contacts, in order to rub at his leaky eyes. They never stopped wavering, and neither did Baekhyun. Whether him falling back onto the office lounge, pulling Chanyeol with him, was an accident or exclusively on purpose would remain a question unanswered forever.   
  
The contract on his desk was still begging to be assessed; all the numbers Seungwan had prepared for Chanyeol to call still whispering his last name. That heinous, impending event. He allowed himself to deal with that later, as all he wanted right now was to be close. To relish in the knowledge that he’d done something right for once, something entirely upright and selfless. That being said, the lounge was significantly too small for Chanyeol and his long legs, and he was most definitely squashing the small person below him, proving neither of the two could have possibly been comfortable. Still, moving was out of the equation. Or least it was until Baekhyun ultimately gave in to his childlike urge to nap at all times. (“Everywhere is a bed if you try hard enough,” he once said. Chanyeol supposed there was some truth in that.)   
  
They reached that point roughly 30 minutes later. Before he could doze off himself, Chanyeol prepared to get up then, carefully removing Baekhyun’s hands and allowing them to drop into the cushions surrounding his head, slim fingers closing around nothing. The sight was somewhat pitiful; Chanyeol found himself unable to look away. As if pulled in by an invisible force, he remained propped up on both hands, lower lip caught in between his teeth when he realized every muscle in his body worked against him, to keep him unmoving. To remain right there in that lone moment. There was a reason, he found much too quickly, as all of a sudden, things Chanyeol had always thought of as completely ordinary made it hard to breathe. Suddenly, Baekhyun’s puppy dog eyes reminded him of his own puppy dog. His button nose recalled of better, older, long gone days. And the lips, always so pouty. He was so sweet. Chanyeol couldn’t stop himself when he leaned in to press a quick peck on Baekhyun’s cheek.   
  
Or at least that’s what he thought had happened.   
  
Right before he could have fulfilled his innocent fantasies, Baekhyun shifted in his sleep, and their lips collided on accident. So softly. So delicately. Flustered, Chanyeol instantly pulled back, the words _SEXUAL ASSAULT_ replaying in his mind like a mantra, hands tied by shame and embarrassment.  
  
Lo and behold, Baekhyun was looking up at him with the largest doe-eyes.   
  
“I’m so sor—”But he wasn’t quick enough.   
  
Chanyeol knew he’d never be able to keep up with Baekhyun, and yet, he was still surprised; still surprised that, before he could even try to voice his remorse, he had already been pulled back for a real kiss; surprised that, the moment their lips touched, he found not an ounce of apology left in his heart. And what a whimsical world it was. To allow such nonsense to happen.   
  
“Baekhyun, are you sure you—”  
  
What an odd time to be alive.   
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Shushing him each time something else threatened to leave his mouth, Baekhyun connected their lips in a way that made it seem like all he’d ever done was sit there and hope to be kissed. To be ravished and bewitched. Chanyeol couldn’t help but believe that must have been the case with the way he was being pulled in with legs, as well as hands, all buried in the favor of his body. His neck and his back. Shoulders. Like a vixen set free, Baekhyun pried Chanyeol’s lips open, his own parted and artlessly welcoming.  
  
“I’ve waited way too long,” he breathed, descending another hazy layer onto the other’s troubled mind, “I’m not gonna let anyone ruin this moment, Chanyeol. Not even you.”   
  
Swallowing his words, Chanyeol felt his self-control dwindle steadily as Baekhyun pressed a row of sharp nails into his nape, quite possibly marking the skin there while also continuing to suck on his tongue as if it were a dripping popsicle. How something could feel so right and simultaneously so wrong was something beyond Chanyeol’s mere understanding.  
  
“Please kiss me back.” Pulling back slightly to show him his begging, bitingly innocent eyes, Baekhyun added, “I’m not asking for much.   
  
_“Just once, please kiss me back.”_  
  
Chanyeol believed that must have done it for him at last. What must have broken the dam, set the demons free and revealed desires so well hidden he didn’t even realize they were a part of him. Now, they seemed like the only thing he was. As Chanyeol dove into the open vessel upfront, his coherence slipped further, and he found it increasingly hard to describe what he felt; whether it was as freeing as his conscience told him it was, simply tiring or still rewarding enough to make him wanna work for it. For the noises Baekhyun made when he realized he was gonna get his way again, or the tremors Chanyeol could sense all over his skin, heating up with every little gesture on his part. Baekhyun was a lot of things, but above all, he was sensitive.   
  
To Chanyeol, being intimate with someone had always been a challenge of sorts. He wanted to pass with flying colors, just like he did at everything else, and learning how to be a phenomenal lover was just another stepping stone in achieving that. To learn how to hit the right keys at the right time to get the desired outcome was a skill; an art that required sacrifices, therefore, it took time, practice, and feedback. If you didn’t get feedback, you couldn’t become a good typist. If you refused to practice, you couldn’t become a good typist. To Chanyeol, the human body was a lot like a keyboard.  
  
Even amateurs, he was convinced, could have figured Baekhyun’s out; which keys he liked pressed and how painfully easy he was. Shouting them out like a desperate prayer, he laid himself out for the world to see. To pick apart and dissect. The responses he gave, so much for so little. Such low effort for such high exchange. Feeling winded, Chanyeol allowed himself to drown in what felt like waves of passionate, intense feeling, to accept the unceasing praise with open arms and a deceivingly spread mind. Baekhyun’s lips popping off his own, creating a sound far too obscene for the professional environment, and his mewls, pleads, his hushed curses whenever Chanyeol leaned in just right. Lingering willingly because he knew it’d take Baekhyun’s breath away and, maybe, his own too.  
  
Fingers roaming all around overpriced fabric, in between buttons and under hems, Baekhyun, just as well as Chanyeol, delivered beyond measure. He couldn’t get enough; neither of them could as proven by the lack of grace exuded on each side. The complete absence of any rhythm at all. Chanyeol couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone so sloppily and actually enjoyed it — high school, probably.  
  
The thought unexpectedly hit a nerve. _High school.    
  
__Chanyeol was kissing a high school student_.   
  
Heart hammering in his chest, he abruptly pulled away, “What the hell are we doing?”   
  
“Uh,” Baekhyun smiled lightly, looking just as dazed as Chanyeol felt, “bonding?”   
  
“I don’t think that’s what it is.”   
  
“I do. Now come back here—”   
  
He attempted to pull him back in but stilled midair when a knock arose from the direction of the door. As if struck by lightning, Chanyeol jumped off the lounge then, fixing his shirt and hair in the faint reflection of the window whereas Baekhyun remained just like he was left, as if all was peachy. Messy clothes and a pair of bright red, swollen lips lighting up his annoyingly cocky expression.   
  
The visitor—some nameless employee Chanyeol didn’t recognize—immediately sized both men up with a knowing glint in his eyes. Any other time, virtually any other circumstance, Chanyeol would have made it a point to keep hush, but it wasn’t like he was unaware of the countless rumors already floating around regarding _the weird, tattooed boy always lazing around the boss’s office_. One more surely wouldn’t hurt.  
  
Words of confrontation stacked behind his teeth, Chanyeol angled his body toward Baekhyun once they were alone again. He found himself too slow, again, as Baekhyun was already back in his bubble, planting kiss after kiss on Chanyeol’s reluctantly waiting lips.   
  
Oh well, he thought. One more, in this case too, surely wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Emotional health was in many ways like a deep well. When the water was clean, it gave life to everyone who drank from it. When the water became toxic, it wasn’t only hazardous to everyone’s health but also corroded the well beyond repair over time. Chanyeol always believed he was one of those cases.  
  
No one ever taught him how to love; how to hold a human heart and believe it was something precious. How to quit ripping things apart just to prove they could break. Growing up unapologetic, a rich kid constantly painted as the villain; so proud, had corrupted him without question. His parents, in spite of the facade they put up, didn’t love him. His siblings despised him for being the favorite. All things considered, Chanyeol had no choice other than to accept the change happening within, turning his heart into a flawed, unrecognizable piece of flesh deemed rightfully useless. The immorality sticking to him like a second, third skin. The dishonesty. He accepted it, he accepted all of it — all, except the delusion. As apposed to his—partially batshit crazy—peers, Chanyeol was well aware there would always be good people out there, just as there would always be bad. It just so happened he was more prone to interact with the latter, though he did know not to trust either. Chanyeol’s well had always been a little broken, after all.   
  
Perhaps had someone bothered to keep the bricks from crumbling so early on, he would have felt more. Seen more. Loved more.   
  
As of now, Chanyeol could tell things were changing. That life was still grim but no longer black and white. Someone was actively trying to pick up the fallen pieces and filter the water polluting his essence; to tear him down, apart, and creep inside like a warm ray of sunshine. Chanyeol knew all of that was happening, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know if he wanted to.  
  
The more time he spent looking at that boyish smile, the more he believed it could quite possibly heal the entire world.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

“Baekhyun, can I—what are you doing?”   
  
Chanyeol froze, leaning over the back of the couch Baekhyun was sitting on with a bewildered frown. Already grinning, the redhead threw his head back to connect their eyes, tugging the other’s upper body in and slightly over the headrest to steal a kiss. Strange, how quickly that became a habit. Even stranger, how quickly Chanyeol accepted it as one.   
  
As with everything Baekhyun related, touching lips too somehow ended up becoming natural. Chanyeol, as oblivious as he was deliberately ignorant, refused to think about it. With Baekhyun, it had always been better to just roll with the punches anyway.   
  
“For my art class.” he smiled, patting the space beside him. Chanyeol sat down. “You know, I’m a very diligent student now. I might even go as far as saying I’m the best.”  
  
“‘The best’ my ass.”   
  
On Baekhyun’s paper, there was... really, not a lot. Just a blank background and the three words _Suck My Dick_ written in a squiggly font. If Chanyeol were any less accustomed to Baekhyun’s antics, he would have probably been at least a little peeved. But, since that wasn’t the case, he just sighed.   
  
“You can’t submit that, Baek.”  
  
“Watch me.”   
  
If only everyone could have half the confidence this boy had.   
  
“You know what, I’m not even gonna bother.” Chanyeol quickly relented. “You’re just gonna do it anyway no matter what I say.”   
  
“Not if you beg me — but I know you’re too proud for that.” Tossing the block somewhere to the side, Baekhyun leaned far back on his palms. His smile was so full of its usual mischief, challenging, Chanyeol couldn’t help but swallow around nothing, “I’m not above begging myself, you see. I’ll spend days on my knees if I really want something.”  
  
“What do you want then?” Wrong question. Abort, abort, abort—  
  
“You.”   
  
Right there.  
  
The invitation was right there, eyeing Chanyeol in a way that’d put even porn stars to shame, but it didn’t seem to even reach him. Instead, he turned to Baekhyun with a velocity capable of throwing his entire existence off its axis, and maybe that’s because it did. Maybe that’s why he, for the first time, dared to question something he’d been brooding over for far too long now.  
  
“Why?” Chanyeol scowled. “Why me? Be honest, what do you even like about me?”  
  
A question so short. A question so loaded. Baekhyun hesitated.   
  
“What? I... I mean, I like a lot of things about you.” Visibly flustered, he responded after a few long seconds. His demeanor, his expression, everything seemed to have underwent a complete 180, as now he almost looked a little shy — and Baekhyun _never_ looked shy. “I like how determined you are. I like how you don’t take shit from anyone. I like how, sometimes, your eyes soften when you look at me.”   
  
It was Chanyeol’s turn to be flustered now.   
  
“I like how you sleep wrapped around me because you’re sick of me falling all the time. I like it, because I am too. I like how I’m the only one who gets to see that side of you.” Baekhyun turned away then, the slightest wash of pink tinting his cheeks. “I wish you wouldn’t let your work consume you so much, but I know you do it because you’re passionate about it. I think I like that too. I like how big your hands are, they make me feel safe. I like how you probably thought I’d respond with ‘Your looks’ when there’s so much more to you.”   
  
“Th-That’s not—”  
  
“I just like you, Chanyeol. I like you for _you_.”   
  
Baekhyun was looking anywhere, from Toben sleeping on the floor, to the walls and the paintings; anywhere but the only other person in the room with him. It might have been for the better. Chanyeol didn’t know how well he could handle being looked at right now, especially by those penetrating eyes Baekhyun bore so unapologetically. Too transparent. Way, way too transparent.   
  
He was afraid of what he’d see in them, if he looked.  
  
“Cheesy bastard,” he spit through gritted teeth. Groaning, Chanyeol inched a little closer, throwing his forehead onto Baekhyun’s bony shoulder. Repeatedly, he lifted it, descended again, swallowing his manners when he added, “why do you have to be such a cheesy fucking bastard?”  
  
All he got in response was a laugh, followed by a gentle arm snaking around his slumped middle. Chanyeol didn’t know how to proceed; this was, again, unexplored territory to him. He was intimidated by his obvious lack in say regarding the rapid growth of their relationship, and how big an impact his opposition might have if he actually spoke up. At the end of the day, Chanyeol didn’t want anything in between them to change. For things to stay this way, for there to always be someone waiting at home for him. No strings attached. No responsibilities. He wanted it, but how selfish? How selfish would that be?  
  
Like someone content with the present, someone like Chanyeol maybe, Baekhyun never seemed to question anything either. Maybe they just both enjoyed the act of falling.   
  
“I might be a cheesy fucking bastard,” he declared after a while, “but I’m _your_ cheesy fucking bastard.”   
  
Blanking, Chanyeol heaved the biggest sigh, “What a lucky guy I am.”   
  
(Still, he didn’t mind the thought.)  
  
“You are.” Baekhyun said. “And so am I.”   
  
At the end of their conversation, it was like nothing had been said. Baekhyun’s words were sweet, they were heartfelt, but all they did was confuse Chanyeol further, have him revaluate every meaning, every letter and pause. Even so, he knew he didn’t want to push Baekhyun away, but he also didn’t want him to get closer either. He didn’t want to have him, and he didn’t want anyone else to have him either. It was beyond his right to feel like that, as Baekhyun was but a mere boy. A mere boy he bore all the urges a human body could bear toward, ranging from pathetically soft to obscenely indecent. Completely outrageous. Chanyeol knew he didn’t have the right, but he just couldn’t help himself.  
  
So, of course, he popped the question. “Can I ask you for a favor, Baekhyun?”   
  
Looking up from that godawful drawing, the redhead gave him his signature rectangular smile. Immediately, Chanyeol felt at ease.  
  
“You know I’d do anything to you—for you.”   
  
“Good.” he began, skillfully ignoring the innuendo. “In less than a week, I’m hosting an event at my house. We’re trying to branch out and build connections abroad. So I’ve invited a very powerful man from China and, well, he’s... peculiar... to say the least.”   
  
Baekhyun leaned in, “That means?”   
  
“From people who work with him, I’ve been advised to go all out. Apparently, he appreciates a good party. The louder, the better.” he paused. “I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s not exactly me.”   
  
“I had no idea.”   
  
Groaning, Chanyeol pushed a laughing Baekhyun away by the shoulder, “I’m kind of nervous,” he frowned, “I’m not usually, but I don’t enjoy being this far out of my element. I expect him to be drunk, and I don’t doubt I will be too. Even traditional company dinners end that way.”   
  
“Cool, so where do I enter the picture? Emotional support?”   
  
Well. “Actually, yeah.”   
  
Baekhyun had most definitely been joking when he asked that, so Chanyeol wasn’t surprised to see him a little abashed. He hurried to explain.   
  
“I’m used to your company. You’re familiar, and I think that might have a calming effect on me. I hate to say it, but I don’t know my employees well,” Or anyone for that matter. “so you’d be the only person there I could rely on. Of course, you don’t have to come, but I just—”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“—really wanna land a deal, and—what? Yes?”   
  
“I’ll come.” Baekhyun nodded fervently. “I’ll be your date. Yes.”   
  
“It’s not a...” Shaking his head, Chanyeol tried to keep the relief from spreading across his face, but it was too late. “Whatever, I’ll take it. Thank you.”   
  
It appeared he wasn’t the only one delighted by the news, as the eye smile Baekhyun sent him was enough — enough to fuel Chanyeol for another day, week, or at the very least until judgment day finally came to knock at his door. Taunting him from around the corner. With Baekhyun at his side, Chanyeol thought nothing was out of the reach.  
  
“Of course.”   
  
He could do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> regarding the first portion of this chapter: yes, i know the age of consent in korea is not 18. for the sake of the storyline, let’s just pretend it is lol. 
> 
> (also, you didn’t hear this from me, but things might get very steamy very soon. /hohoho/)


	4. four.

**iv. eros  
**a passionate physical and emotional love based on aesthetic enjoyment; stereotype of romantic love

 

He couldn’t do it.   
  
Chanyeol’s main floor was bustling with agents, his own employees, a herd of people paying him an obscene amount of money for the mere opportunity to come face to face with the infamous Mr. Zhang. A man so successful, a man so adored — so intelligent, even if a little deranged. He still wasn’t there, and neither was Baekhyun.   
  
Chanyeol knew better than to worry about the former, since cocky businessmen were almost never on time, but Baekhyun’s absence was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be late. Just when Chanyeol was about to reach for his phone, two palms came up to blindfold him from behind.  
  
“Guess who.”   
  
Dear god. Correction: _thank_ god. “You’re late.”  
  
“Fashionably late.” With a sly smile, Baekhyun released his hold to reveal himself. And holy hell.  
  
A reveal it was.   
  
Granted, Chanyeol did connect him to one of his stylists, however, that was about as far as he went in his effort; a fleeting thought executed on a whim and discarded by the wind. Knowing how dead set Baekhyun was in his ways and how he didn’t like to be ordered around, a part of Chanyeol honestly expected him to just show up in his day-to-day clothes. Sticking out like a sore thumb might have even given him a kick of sorts, for all Chanyeol knew.  
  
“Wow.” Instead, he gaped, indiscreetly eyeing Baekhyun up and down. Clad in a white satin button up, the skinniest light wash jeans and a matching, expensive looking jacket to add just the right finishing touch, he clearly looked nice. Nicer than usual. But that’s not what caught Chanyeol off guard. “You look... good.”   
  
It was his neck. Or rather, his tattoo — or lack thereof.   
  
Baekhyun’s eyes followed his closely. He pouted, somewhat sinking into himself at the unspoken question hanging midair, “It didn’t fit the ‘professional environment’ apparently.”   
  
“And you listened? You never listen.”  
  
Was it true, that it would have been out of place? Yeah. Did Chanyeol’s fingers still itch to fire someone? _Hell_ yeah.   
  
Frowning, he lifted a thumb to the suspiciously plain skin. It felt wrong. Before, he never found himself thinking too much of Baekhyun’s decisions regarding his body, because they weren’t Chanyeol’s to think about, but turned out he did have a preference, after all. Tattooed Baekhyun surely looked better. (That conclusion, too, he wouldn’t have imagined himself coming to not that long ago.)   
   
“I didn’t really have a choice.” Baekhyun didn’t look the happiest when he said that, and Chanyeol was definitely gonna fire someone by the end of the night. “I think that stylist had a personal vendetta against body mods?” he chuckled. “Her face pretty much said it all when I came in.”   
  
Typical. How annoyingly and predictably typical.   
  
“You should have called me. I don’t want you to feel like you need to change to fit in.” Chanyeol scowled, genuinely ticked off. “You’re fine the way you are. If you wanna wipe it off, go right ahead. I don’t mind.”   
  
Honestly, he wanted him to. Baekhyun, though, shook his head.   
  
“Thank you. But I think I’ll keep it like this for now.” Crossing his arms, he let his eyes wander across the spacious room. “I wanna see how your rich friends treat me looking like this. You know, like a million dollars.”   
  
Like so many other times before, Chanyeol struggled to find a response fit for that monstrosity of an ego he stood up against. Perhaps he should just accept that there would never be one. That Baekhyun laid out his traps so messily because he knew someone was gonna step on them anyway, and Chanyeol did. Chanyeol always did, and he was afraid he always would.   
  
“You’re impossible.”  
  
“Impossibly gorgeous, yes.” Wiggling his brows, Baekhyun lifted a hand to Chanyeol’s waist, pressing uncomfortably close into his side. Right that moment, the hustle and bustle around them cleared out for one short second, and someone stepped in. Ever so softly, asking—  
  
“You’re Park Chanyeol, I’m assuming?”   
  
Red alert. Red alert. Red. Alert. Alert.  
  
“Yes.” Evening out his expression to the best of his ability, Chanyeol distanced himself from Baekhyun, barely enough to appear friendly at best but still be able to sense the warmth of another body beside him. It, as nonsensical as it seemed when he first proposed the idea, did actually help his heart rate stay at a feasible level. “I’m glad we can finally meet, Mr. Zhang. I’ve heard lots of great things about you.”   
  
“Likewise.” The man responded with a nod, no accent at all. Gentle eyes. All things considered, he would have looked especially pleasant — had it not been for the sharpness hiding in the distant back, crystal and clear to Chanyeol’s trained eye. Like a thorn left on purpose in a bush of perfectly trimmed roses. “Though I have so admit, I did not hear you had a partner.”   
  
There it was.   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
Mr. Zhang gestured between him and Baekhyun, shockingly brash in his assumption. Chanyeol blanched. Everything he had planned to say vanished in an instant, feeding into the amused giggles coming from his right to the heavy, burning stares around him. The stone cold facade in front of him.   
  
“Oh.” What the hell was he supposed to do? “I’m... afraid we have a misunderstanding here. Baekhyun and I are not a couple.”   
  
“Who is he then?”   
  
“My son.”   
  
Well, shit. Beside him, Baekhyun—who just stopped a waitress to allow himself a glass of wine—snorted into his drink, trying to stifle a laugh but failing unceremoniously.   
  
“Is that so?” Looking similarly entertained, Mr. Zhang pressed further. “I didn’t know you had a child either. And such a grown one at that.”   
  
As if sensing his dilemma, Baekhyun finally stepped forward to break his silence. The sigh Chanyeol released, tension rolling off his shoulders in strong, cataclysmic waves, could have probably been felt all the way up in the neighboring countries.   
  
“That’s awkwardly phrased. Chanyeollie here just has guardianship over me.” Baekhyun grinned, shamelessly building upon the other’s untruth. “You see, we met each other by chance a few months back and, well, technically he did adopt me. It was more a heat of the moment decision than anything though.” With each word, his voice quietened. So terribly, terribly believable. “I obviously don’t see him as a father figure.”  
  
“Yeah.” _Jesus fucking Christ_. “That’s right.”   
  
At that, Mr. Zhang’s face seemed to drop a little. Suspicion replaced by curiosity, he slightly tilted his head to the side, “How old are you? Do people usually get adopted this late in life?”   
  
“I’m eighteen.” Baekhyun bumped into Chanyeol, nibbling on his lower lip for a second. “This guy just did it out of pity, like most people would have at that point. It’s not common at all. No.”  
  
Chanyeol felt a weird urge to refute that statement. Pity wasn’t a foundation he’d ever have, no matter the circumstance, thought to associate their relationship with. Of course, voicing that was out of question.   
  
“I see. Did you live in foster care before?”  
  
“I lived in an orphanage.” responded Baekhyun, quaintly subdued. “It’s not too far from here, actually. Only a few blocks away.”   
  
“Interesting.” Turning to someone, a colleague supposedly, to say something in Chinese neither of the two could understand, Mr. Zhang readdressed Baekhyun with a gentler, much more polite smile. “I’m thinking of making a few donations here and there while I’m in town. What’s the name of that orphanage?”   
  
Chanyeol followed the exchange with an outsider’s interest, eyes flitting from Baekhyun to his guest as they exchanged information, names of places he’s never heard of before. Emotions he’s never seen before. Baekhyun looked so genuine it hurt. Chanyeol didn’t know why, but his heart hurt listening to him elaborate on a lie blossoming into something when it was supposed to be nothing. It didn’t feel like it was anymore.   
  
“Well, it was nice speaking with you, Baekhyun.” Mr. Zhang eventually finished, holding out one hand for Baekhyun to shake. Soon after that was over and done with, he finally—for what appeared to be the first time that evening—turned to Chanyeol.   
  
“Let’s have a few drinks and talk business, shall we?”   
  
“Of course.”   
  
Nodding exactly three times (at least one calculated thing he did), Chanyeol followed the much shorter male with a saturnine look about him. Only when they sat down at one of the few bars Chanyeol had his team assemble and employ specifically for this occasion alone did he notice Baekhyun left his side somewhere along the way, and immediately, he panicked. Scanning the floor, Chanyeol forced himself not to worry too much while simultaneously trying to focus on his following conversation. That, of course, being something bound to fail.   
  
At least Mr. Zhang ended up being a lot more straight to the point than Chanyeol was made to believe, and words slicker. With a parroted eloquence one could only acquire through constant practice, years of experience, he held onto Chanyeol’s attention with both heels dug in, through drink after drink. His tolerance was exceptional, having become clear once they’d entered the double digits, but Chanyeol could tell it wasn’t everlasting by any means. He first noticed him losing focus when Kim Junmyeon, one of his shareholders, ordered a drink beside them and all contracts seemed to disappear off the table, replaced by some of the corniest pick-up lines Chanyeol had ever been forced to bear witness to. (Even Baekhyun’s paled in comparison, and he literally called him a ‘fine-apple’ and ‘bae-goals’ on several occasions.)  
  
Seeing as Mr. Zhang a.) was occupied and b.) already appeared willing enough to work with him, Chanyeol excused himself for a breath of fresh air. In front of the glass door to his veranda, however, he froze.   
  
Things outside looked to have picked up beyond control — it was barely midnight, and people were already shedding their clothes; some in the pool, some not. Some making out in dark corners. Old folks were preying on the young, barstools filling out to the brim, and Chanyeol... well, Chanyeol didn’t get it. He was just about to turn around and search for peace somewhere else, when he noticed something.   
  
And his legs refused to move.  
  
It was Baekhyun, Chanyeol realized in a trice, looking entirely caught in the middle of it all. The life of the party in each and every sense of the word. Sandwiched in between Minseok and Jongdae—two of Chanyeol’s closest employees, also known as the power couple of the company—the redhead seemed like he was having the time of his life. More accurately, he seemed like he’s _been_ having the time of his life; in order words, he looked a mess. A hot, hot mess. Hair wet from what Chanyeol presumed to be an experimental deep dive into the pool, his dripping shirt had been messily unbuttoned in miscellaneous places, revealing parts of his chest, parts of his lean stomach. Glistening with life and water, Chanyeol could, even from the distance, clearly see Baekhyun’s tattoos begin to shine through the heavy make-up, complimented by a new set of sea fowls traveling down the expanse of his ribs. It wasn’t surprising by definition, seeing something new blooming on Baekhyun’s body, but it was certainly off-putting. Chanyeol was off-put by the way Baekhyun chose to display that part of himself so openly to complete strangers, when every time Chanyeol had asked him to explain the meaning behind his many tattoos he went quiet. Baekhyun didn’t look so quiet now.   
  
Having said that, what surprised him even more was something entirely different, presenting itself in the form of a tiny, inconspicuous piece of metal attached to Baekhyun’s chest. It was small, almost even modest. But it was there.   
  
Stunned, Chanyeol tried to keep his thoughts from entering dangerous grounds; he tried to look away each time Baekhyun’s shirt shifted under the glistening pink lights, revealing the straight barbell underneath. He tried to accredit it to delusion, that he was drunk off his mind and imagining things, but he knew he wasn’t. Baekhyun actually had one of his nipples pierced, and Chanyeol was sick of trying. He was sick of imagining the whats and the ifs and fed up with restraining the fire he felt in his abdomen every time he looked at Baekhyun these days. So what — if his feathers were burning. (Chanyeol never asked for flight.)  
  
“If you stare any harder, he’s gonna melt.”   
  
He tore his eyes off Baekhyun at that. On his left, Mr. Zhang stood leaning against the tall creme wall, watching him knowingly.  
  
Again, blatantly brash in his assumption.   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“Listen, I’m not judging you.” he laughed, patting the taller man on the back. They were most definitely both too drunk for this. “It _is_ surprising though. You really deviate greatly from the public’s perception, don’t you?”   
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“Well,” Mr. Zhang mused, “they say you’re cunning and manipulative. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt that part.” Following Chanyeol’s gaze, he hesitated to speak further. For a moment, they both observed Baekhyun getting pulled in by someone else, back pressed into a much larger man’s chest behind him. One significantly more fuming than the other. “But I didn’t think you were the type to lose your cool over a boy.”  
  
Chanyeol bristled, resigning much too quickly. He blamed it on the alcohol. “Me neither.”   
  
“Why are you still here then? Go get him.”   
  
“It’s... not that easy.”   
  
“Oh, but it is.”   
  
“Wha—” Taking him by the shoulders, Mr. Zhang pulled Chanyeol’s blazer off and pushed him in the direction of the door. Throwing it open with a content smile, he ushered him outside, waved once, twice and disappeared back into the crowd.   
  
“For fuck’s sake...”   
  
Groaning, Chanyeol pulled his tie off, discarding it somewhere in the grass beside him. He’d already been noticed anyway; in fact, he could physically sense everyone’s stares on him, and going back inside would just look weird now. Also, he couldn’t say Mr. Zhang was completely off in what he was saying either.   
  
Maybe it really was that easy. Maybe. (Probably not.)  
  
Stopping a passing waitress to grab a shot, aka liquid courage, Chanyeol downed it in one go before he set his sights on the mess in front of him. The music, some edm-pop catastrophe, was too loud, the laughs verging on deafening. Everywhere reeked of alcohol. Repugnant and indecent, it still wasn’t enough to stop Chanyeol from going in and yanking Baekhyun off that man’s chest.   
  
“Who—ah, _Chanyeollie!_ ”   
  
Lord — why did he have to look so good?   
  
“You just left without saying anything,” Chanyeol leaned into the other’s ear to avoid having to scream, “what happened?”   
  
“Oh. Nothing,” Baekhyun laughed, “I heard they served tacos out here, and I just couldn’t help myself.” he added, standing stiffly in front of Chanyeol. The pull had caused him to spill the majority of his drink all over his scarcely clothed chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once again, the piercing, too obvious under the wet silk, caught Chanyeol’s eye, “They were good tacos. However, I ate like nine of them. Which is too many.”  
  
How did he never notice?   
  
“Anyway, I apologize. Did you manage to get the deal?” Baekhyun continued, unaware of the heaviness around them. The air, heating up and encompassing Chanyeol whole, when he snuck one arm around Baekhyun’s middle and pulled him in snug.   
  
“I believe so.” Jaw pulled taut, memories of someone else being this close came to haunt him all at once. Naturally, he buried his free hand in Baekhyun’s hair, rather rough in his advances as he tipped his head up in order to establish eye contact, “I don’t want you to go off on your own, you hear me? Some of these people are dangerous.”  
  
Gentle smiles were nothing but a fond memory now.  
  
“I’m not a child. I can look after myself,” Gaze darkening in time with Chanyeol’s, he blinked dazedly, “don’t you trust me?”   
  
“I do trust you.” (Everyone else was the problem.)   
  
Baekhyun sighed, still clutching his drink even with their proximity. He seemed to notice something then, “Aren’t you worried about people seeing us like this? You know they’re gonna talk.”   
  
“Let them. I had everyone coming in sign a legal disclaimer preventing them from speaking on anything that happened here tonight.” An NDA, for short. “Unless someone wants to get sued, we’re good.”   
  
“So that’s what that was about.” Baekhyun hummed. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”   
  
Someone bumped into them right that instant, and Chanyeol wasn’t sure whether the liquid running down his back originated from Baekhyun’s glass or someone else’s. The cold did nothing to cool him down.   
  
“It’s a routine measure, but yes.” he replied, removing his hand from Baekhyun’s hair in order to cradle his face instead. “If I know either I or my associates will be drunk, I have to think of everything. It’s expected of me.”   
  
“How drunk are you now?”   
  
“Fairly.”  
  
“I see.” Like all of his qualms had been cut in half by that confession alone, Baekhyun wrapped his free arm around the CEO’s neck. “So what happens in this backyard” he curved his entire body into Chanyeol’s, blinking up at him with dimly lit eyes, “stays in this backyard?”   
  
Chanyeol’s shirt was soaked within few seconds, much like his own sullied mind. Discarded morals and principles bled all over, dissolving in the heat of the moment; unrecognizable but not entirely unwelcome.   
  
He was ready to let go.   
  
“Correct.”   
  
The moment that word, so simple and unassuming, left his lips, Baekhyun pulled Chanyeol down and himself up. Eyes falling closed as if on instinct, they both openly leaned into it, the much-too-wet kiss that ensued and the knowledge that everyone could see them. Judge them. Neither side appeared to care, not that Chanyeol would have expected Baekhyun to anyway; in fact, the exposure only made it all the more exciting. To engage in a battle of passion so public, of wet and water, of slippery and teeth. To feel the softest pair of lips on his and know, of all the people currently walking his property, he was the only one. Chanyeol didn’t dare to think twice.   
  
“I swear, you really _are_ going to be the fucking death of me—” he groaned.  
  
Baekhyun snickered against his lips, breaking away shortly to take a swig of his drink. Chanyeol didn’t expect anything to sprout from that, which changed rather rapidly when he was tugged back in, along with the tightness in his lower stomach, the moment Baekhyun kissed him again and the half swallowed liquid ran down the corners of his lips. Past his throat. A picture perfect wreck, Chanyeol thought cynically, perfectly capable of throwing whatever was left of his pretenses off their high pedestals. There was no point, as it was all bound to crash either way, but Baekhyun did always like to lay things on thick.   
  
“I wanna play a game,” he pulled away then, strategically pushing one knee in between the elder’s legs. Chanyeol went to lean in again— _he just tasted too damn good_ —but Baekhyun stopped him by hovering the almost empty glass in between their faces, “well, I guess it’s not really a game.”   
  
“What are you on about?”   
  
“Let’s see how long it takes us to melt this thing.”   
  
Chanyeol blinked, unable to make sense of what was being said to him. When he noticed Baekhyun tipping the glass to his lips, downing what was left (yes, _all of it_ ), realization hit him like an angry slap in the face.   
  
“Nasty.” Biting his tongue, he grabbed Baekhyun by the chin. “Come on then.”   
  
The moment their lips collided, he readily opened up. The ice cube, cold and acrid, immediately slid into his mouth with a knifelike slick to it, tempering his hot cavern as if it ever stood a chance. In his upheaval, Chanyeol ended up pressing Baekhyun’s body closer to his than ever before, exchanging spit, water and the remaining alcohol with a vigor so foreign. So elating. Not even a minute later, the ice was completely melted between their lips, reduced to nothing whilst Baekhyun continued to explore Chanyeol’s mouth with his tongue, his thigh agonizingly active around his crotch area. Just like Chanyeol’s rationale, the cold dissolved without a trace. He didn’t want to think of right and wrong anymore.   
  
“I want you.” So he didn’t. “Right fucking now.”   
  
Baekhyun moaned into his mouth at that, drowning the other’s body in goosebumps.  
  
Flooding him with ecstasy.  
  
“Then take me.”   
  
There was no taking back those words. Chanyeol didn’t know how else to phrase it; he simply wanted Baekhyun, and he wanted him too much. Enough to not know feelings. To overlook the stares around him as they pulled apart, away from each other, and Chanyeol squeezed Baekhyun’s warm hand in his own. Enough to leave them all to the wolves and claim the prize, the red riding hood, all to himself.    
  
Chanyeol wasn’t going to share tonight with anyone.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

The emotion felt heaviest in the bedroom was something Chanyeol would have compared to the exhaustive wave of an ocean, if he had to. It came toward him, desperate. It broke. It receded and repeated. Baekhyun was endearingly coy.  
  
He only liked to be pampered and spoiled, flushed solid down to his chest. It was hard to believe at first, but his confidence went missing the second Chanyeol laid him out, pulled from under his feet like an old rug leaving him with the realization of what was about to happen, and a pair of hands he didn’t quite seem to know what to do with anymore. It sobered Chanyeol up rather quickly.   
  
“You good?”   
  
“Yes.” Baekhyun nodded, but the only person he looked adamant on convincing was himself.   
  
The other lifted a brow, along with his upper half when he sat back on Baekhyun’s hips to undo the buttons of his own shirt one by one. Once the garment was off, and Chanyeol halfway ready to dive down again, Baekhyun stopped him with a palm to the chest. He didn’t meet his eyes, only took a peek here and there, “Be gentle, please,” he mumbled in a meek tone, fingertips grazing down the raven’s abs, “I’m not as tough as I make myself out to be.”   
  
Chanyeol gaped. In that moment, he realized what it felt like to almost pass out. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t pleasant.)  
  
“O-Of course,” he stuttered, slightly thrown off his game. In all honesty, Chanyeol pegged Baekhyun for the rough-sex-kinda-type, but this was okay too. How they did it never mattered to him anyway.  
  
“So how’d you manage to hide this from me?”   
  
Catching himself, he went to finally address the elephant in the room. Chanyeol genuinely wanted to know, remaining slightly propped up to eye Baekhyun’s chest in its entirety. The messily unbuttoned shirt, sticky and mainly see-through, didn’t conceal much.   
  
“I didn’t hide anything,” Baekhyun countered, hands clutching at firm biceps, “you just never noticed.”   
  
“So you’ve had it for a while?”   
  
Unable to help himself, Chanyeol lifted his index finger to the hardened nipple, the left one, rolling it round through the soaked shirt. The metal felt cold, much like the shiver running down his spine at the breathy moan Baekhyun released in response to the touches.  
  
“Yeah,” he bit out, chewing on his upper lip to presumably keep any more noises from coming. Chanyeol watched his heaving chest, knowing he usually didn’t linger there—whether he was with a male, or a female—but intrigued beyond relief. His interest was piqued, and Chanyeol could neither stop nor recognize himself anymore. When he tore the remaining buttons of Baekhyun’s shirt open, he knew it wasn’t him. Taking in the polished ink and the smooth skin. Dammit; _he knew it wasn’t him_ , but he wanted it to be. Chanyeol wanted so badly to be able to accept the fact that Baekhyun had altered him.   
  
He wordlessly latched on, swirling his tongue around the pierced bud. Haggard breathing and shaky sighs, the taste of liquor, drowned Chanyeol’s restless thoughts out, and all he could focus on now was one thing; to make this worthwhile. To remain levelheaded, as soft as Baekhyun wanted him to be, and see where it might lead him.   
  
“I wanna buy you so much expensive jewelry,” he tugged on the metal with his teeth, words thrown in secondly. With his left hand, Chanyeol started working on the other side, untouched and neglected, “imagine running around with a couple grand hanging on your nipple. I dig it.”    
  
Baekhyun gasped, laughing breathlessly, “Please don’t,” he clawed at the pillows, lips parted to release the cutest, most high-pitched sounds, “do-on’t buy me anything—”  
  
“Try stopping me.”   
  
“I will.” They caught eyes, and Chanyeol smiled. He knew that look. “Square up, fool.”   
  
He knew it, and he loved it.   
  
“Gladly.”   
  
The further he descended down his body, the quicker Baekhyun’s giggles died off. Chanyeol closed his eyes, already working on Baekhyun’s zipper before he risked an expectant glance upwards, waiting on a sign of approval; a nod, a thumbs up. Anything. He knew he had his answer when Baekhyun smiled and looked away, shaking his head as if he were amused at the hesitation. Fists closing around the thin air above his head.   
  
The sight planted a seed called déjà vu into Chanyeol’s mind, and it reminded him. Of their first kiss, and how things seemed so simple back then. So easy. In a way, nothing had changed, although the tides had definitely turned. Considering Chanyeol’s never been in charge before when it came to boisterous Byun Baekhyun, this was a critical change of scenery.  
  
He enjoyed it quite a lot.   
  
“You’re insanely stunning,”   
  
Similar sweet nothings followed, whispered against the skin of Baekhyun’s lower tummy whilst Chanyeol took his time undressing him. Partially because he wanted to, partially because it was far from easy to pull off wet skinny jeans. Eventually, he did it, pleased to welcome Baekhyun’s long, smooth legs into his cloudy vision, hairless and exactly how he liked them. Baekhyun was, in a lot of ways, exactly how Chanyeol ‘liked them’ — that was probably among his biggest revelations so far.   
  
“Relax, okay?” he added, sensing something akin to nerves in between the lines of Baekhyun’s expression, “I’ll take care of you tonight. You don’t have to worry about anything.”   
  
In the midst of him saying that, coupled with Baekhyun’s nods, Chanyeol hovered above his body to rummage through his bedside table. The second he retrieved what he needed, Baekhyun pulled him down for a kiss. Ironically enough, that one was the tamest yet.   
  
“I trust you, Chanyeol. Please don’t make me regret it.”   
  
Something inside Chanyeol faltered at the words. He didn’t exactly know why; it just sounded like more than it was. Like Baekhyun was giving a part of himself to Chanyeol, a part too heavy for him to hold.   
  
Yet, he responded, “Never.”   
  
Baekhyun must have felt the sincerity since he pulled him in closer and closer, kissed him deeper and deeper. It felt different, as Chanyeol for once didn’t have to worry about his air supply running out while kissing Baekhyun, and nice in its very own unique way. One would think there was a time and a place for one or the other, but Baekhyun clearly disagreed. He kissed Chanyeol however he wanted and where he wanted; gently in the bedroom and fiercely in the office. He really didn’t care, and Chanyeol was beginning to see the appeal in that.   
  
Soon, once he had enough of the foreplay, he reached down to hook Baekhyun’s knees over his hips. Through that, the tiny bit of distance they had left between them was diminished entirely, and Chanyeol could most definitely feel Baekhyun’s hardness pressing against him. He didn’t doubt Baekhyun could feel him too, even through the bisected suit separating them.   
  
No words were exchanged, only the purest of kisses. Slowly, Chanyeol pulled Baekhyun’s underwear down, just a bit, snapped the lube open — and set sail.   
  
The first finger slid in easily. Too easily, in fact. “Have you...?”   
  
Looking somewhat flustered, Baekhyun went to hide in Chanyeol’s neck. His next words were mostly fueled by embarrassment, Chanyeol could tell, but they were just _so Baekhyun_. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Shit, since no one else wanna murder this ass, I have to do it myself.”   
  
With a small, amused peck to the side of Baekhyun’s head, a second finger followed.  
  
“You never fail to surprise me.”  
  
Still, minimal resistance.   
  
Baekhyun shivered visibly at the intrusion, dragging a hand all the way down Chanyeol’s chest, “I hope I can say the same for you.”   
  
With a flick of his wrist, he then popped the button of his pants open; the message, as clear as that spirituous ice-cube earlier, was received instantly. “Don’t you worry,” The other dwindled, pressing his lips to the column of Baekhyun’s neck once he’d finally returned into sight. Earning himself another moan reinforced by the notion of him adding a third (and last) finger, Chanyeol sucked on the skin, biting lightly, “I don’t know what kinda toys you play around with, but you won’t leave unsatisfied tonight. That’s a promise.”   
  
“Actions speak louder than words.”  
  
He scissored his fingers, searching for that golden spot, “Patience, sweetheart.” Though it didn’t take long until Baekhyun was clawing at his back, and Chanyeol’s dick throbbing in his pants. If only he could already...  
  
“No. I-I’m ready.”   
  
Now. Who was he to refute that statement?   
  
“Are you sure?” Chanyeol still asked for good measure, though he knew. He could feel it. When Baekhyun nodded, breath staggering against his Adam’s apple, there was no fear in his fluttering eyes, only excitement and wonder; a shoal of awe. The heat, pouring heavily down on Chanyeol’s form and engulfing his center — spiking up his blood and quivering beneath his skin. The vast majority of his veins, on both arms and hands, were bulging in vehemence, magnified under several glasses all labeled impatience. It took the upper hand, as it often did, and Chanyeol felt awfully inclined to get rid of his clothes.   
  
Baekhyun watched him sit up with a kittenish glint in his eyes, one part teasing two embarrassed as he lifted his leg to kick off his underwear for good. He was completely bare then, except for what was left of his shirt, cock curving obscenely against his stomach. So vulgar, and so pretty. In that moment, Baekhyun really was the world’s prettiest boy to Chanyeol.    
  
“Fuck. You’re cute.”   
  
Cheeks red enough to match his hair, Baekhyun buried his face in the pillows to his right. He looked like he was feeling every stare. Every look. “I know. Now hurry up, grandpa.”   
  
Chanyeol shook his head in a mix of mirth and peeve, deliberately idle as he pulled his zipper down. The pants came next, and soon the underwear. Resting on his knees, he let the fabric pool at his thighs—again; impatience—before he reached down to give himself a few indulgent tugs, basking in the other’s embarrassed glimpses thrown his way every now and then.   
  
“What? You’re not even gonna say Hi?” he smirked, fully enamoured with Baekhyun’s newly acquired shyness. “He’s so happy to see you.”   
  
A muted laugh graced the silence, followed by a chain of events Chanyeol was likely gonna recall until the day he laid. Baekhyun grabbed his dick—or more like the palm around it—interlaced their fingers, and _pulled_. Chanyeol almost choked.   
  
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Picking up the discarded lube with his free hand, he tightened his hold one more time. “Would you please get inside me? Free of charge.”   
  
Growling at the back of his throat, Chanyeol soundlessly held out his hand. It took the other a second to understand, but then he opened the bottle, squeezing a generous amount into Chanyeol’s spread palm. Baekhyun watched him, not making a noise, as he lathered his length in the sticky substance. Chanyeol didn’t even bother with a condom. He would have, had Baekhyun asked — which he didn’t, so. Fair play.  
  
“You ready?”   
  
“Born ready.”   
  
Debatable, but good enough either way. Not wanting to waste even one more second, Chanyeol leaned forward, carefully hooking the shorter male’s left leg over his shoulder. He hardly managed to lift his head before he was tugged in for another kiss, eager arms wrapping around his neck, and met with the heel of Baekhyun’s other foot urgently digging into the small of his back.   
  
Laughing quietly to himself, Chanyeol descended further down to let Baekhyun hold him as close as pleased. Without another word, he finally slid in then, thoughts instantly taken over by need as he bottomed out; the primal call for release, when the legs around him locked oh-so-tight and their lips broke apart in a mutual sigh. Chanyeol had half a mind to wait—maybe Baekhyun still needed time to adjust, after all?—but reconsidered when a tiny, soft groan was breathed into his ears. Followed by the three magic words he’d been yearning to hear far longer than he’d like to admit.  
  
“Please, Chanyeol. Move.”  
  
And it was like the curtains were ripped open, off, and the show on. With all the bells, the whistles, the tigers and the elephants but, shockingly, no preparation at all. Too much and all at once. Overwhelmed, the lot fled by the masses, in pairs with Chanyeol’s conscience running the instant he pulled out, until only the tip was buried inside, and slammed back in. Wanton moans colored the dark room, gracefully jumping off the walls. The white furniture. Chanyeol couldn’t remember ever having heard, let alone felt or seen, anything so breathtaking.   
  
“Has anyone ever told you...” he panted, bucking his hips shallowly into Baekhyun’s heat. His body, unbearably tight, seemed reluctant to let go of Chanyeol, “how special you are?”   
  
In a flurry, their eyes met, “Do-Don’t say things you don’t mean, drunk ass—”   
  
“I’m serious! I’ve never met anyone even remotely like you, Baek.”   
  
Chanyeol angled his lower half upwards, snapping his hips right where he knew it’d hit the hardest. Baekhyun gasped, “I— _holy fuck_ —of course you haven’t,” he swept his arm through the air and along his forehead, back arching off the bed, “lo-ook at me. When Michael Jackson sang _Smooth Criminal_ , he was actually singing about m-me.”   
  
Writhing in pleasure, Baekhyun let out another series of pleas, like a prophet in church begging to the skies. None were too loud but, to Chanyeol, insanely gratifying nonetheless. Chocolatey and velvety. Puppy-like and sweet. Entirely Baekhyun.  
  
By that point, he was having fair trouble controlling his speech. “You’re perfect. I can’t think of another word.”   
  
Chanyeol had no idea what perfection was supposed to look like, didn’t even know if it existed, but when he leaned in and locked their lips, he thought it may look like Baekhyun. It may look a lot like him.  
  
Head thrown back, Baekhyun’s mouth fell open in a silent moan turned laugh. His teeth looked sharp and clean, beautiful like the rest of him as he opened his eyes welling up with a small pool of tears, “Who’s the cheesy bastard now?” he asked, inching up the headboard while Chanyeol continued to abuse the sensitive bundle of nerves within him. They fit together like a puzzle, movements so fluent Chanyeol was beginning to believe some higher power must have been at play for this to even be a possibility. Perhaps he had always been destined to meet Baekhyun.   
  
Perhaps this wasn’t so wrong, after all.   
  
“Me, so what?” Chanyeol let his head drop, lips closing around a patch of skin right beside Baekhyun’s jugular. He didn’t like to leave marks—because, unlike Baekhyun, he wasn’t a fucking teenager—but his body was working on autopilot, which appeared to be an ongoing theme for Chanyeol nowadays. “I don’t care. I just know I’ll never find anyone even half as beautiful as you.”   
  
“Stop it,” Their hips met repeatedly, obscene squelches drowning out Baekhyun’s sniffles; his choked up moans. Chanyeol made sure to kiss every tear away, washing the smokey make-up down his cheeks, “if you don’t mean it, don’t say it. Please.”  
  
“What if I did mean it? What would you say if I did?”   
  
“I’d... I’d...” He looked so lost. So vulnerable. “It would make me really ha-appy,” Blinking the waterfalls away, their eyes linked tirelessly, “that... that’s what I would say. It-It’d make me happy.”   
  
Chanyeol felt like he were looking at an angel. All that was missing was a set of wings. Baekhyun’s body adapted to his, _connected_ to his in an unusual, foreign way, and he didn’t want it to end yet. All the money in his bank account, Chanyeol would give it all up for this moment to last forever.   
  
“You’re beautiful... in every way imaginable,” he leaned in, lips mere inches away from the other’s. Puffs of hot breath fanned Chanyeol’s face, followed by short, gentle mewls, his heart full when he said, “I mean it,” and he did. Never before had Chanyeol meant anything as much as he meant this.   
  
Back at age 21, when he pledged to not disappoint his parents; when he promised no one was as fit for the highest position as his own humble self. When he pushed all his siblings into the crossfire and selfishly snatched the crown for himself. Nothing mattered anymore, when Baekhyun froze up and wept for his words, and Chanyeol struggled to keep himself from kissing him. All he wanted was to kiss him.   
  
Thus, their lips met in the messiest of embraces, hips stuttering as the end approached. One last time, Chanyeol gave it his all, as he drank in the strong bass creeping up from the lower floor and plowed into Baekhyun in accordance with the beat, in and out. Out and in. The bed was creaking, their burning hearts beating in unison. Lovingly, Chanyeol pushed even closer, even deeper, mind-numbingly aware of the forgotten piercing grazing the skin of his chest. It was too much; his emotions were too much; the raging embers in his abdomen were too much. He felt like he was melting from the inside out.  
  
“I-I’m go-nna—” Baekhyun hiccuped.   
  
Chanyeol shushed him with another kiss.  
  
“Me too.” he confessed, interlacing his free hand with Baekhyun’s. Whispering, “Go on. Come for me.”  
  
With a drawn out moan, Baekhyun simply and submissively did as he was told, nails pulling at the skin of Chanyeol’s clasped hand, his back, when he came all over their combined chests. Untouched. His bottom lip, red with attention, caught between his teeth. Seeing him so raw and up-close, Chanyeol couldn’t help but follow suit.   
  
“Holy shit,” he huffed, lightheaded for minutes to come.   
  
The sweat and the slick, one would assume, would have bothered almost anyone. Anyone but Baekhyun, that was. Without a word of complaint or even a good night, he clocked out, crushed under the weight of Chanyeol and what they’d just done. The fingers stroking him to sleep, caressing his hair and forehead, were both idyllic and solemn; rough for the callouses on Chanyeol’s palms and tender for the yearning in his heart. Just like that, he fell asleep as well.   
  
Just like that, he was back at square one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3k words of smut. jesus take the wheel.
> 
> (ps, why not leave kudos/a comment while you’re already down here? eh? ՞•ﻌ•՞)


	5. five.

**v. mania**  
obsessive love; experience great emotional highs and lows; very possessive and often jealous lovers

 

Morning came in like a river. A clear and calm retreat, flowing on and feisty. Fearless. Time stretched endlessly and memories gathered like fireflies, all joining hands in hopes of giving meaning to all Chanyeol had previously believed to be unsolvable until time’s end. How awfully beautiful this moment was, this moment he was living; how awfully simply put, as words could not do it justice. Yes, Chanyeol had a vague idea what beauty was. It survived all wrong. It was cold and unfair, not only to the one beholding it but even more those subjected to it outside the body. Not rarely, it made it difficult to live.   
  
Even though Baekhyun’s eyes were brown, they turned to amber when the light hit them. Up close, the iris was pure copper, and in the sun, it almost looked a little green. That one was Chanyeol’s favorite. Perhaps, in accepting that, he also uncovered the reason as to why he’d been having such a hard time these days.  
  
In hindsight, he’d always spent too much time looking at Baekhyun. Always paid a little too much attention.  
  
“Chanyeol.” Liked him a little, only a little, more than planned. “Let’s end this.”  
  
Fingers moved earthward on his back, settling in his core nothing short of scathingly. All morning, Baekhyun had been busying himself tracing shapes onto Chanyeol’s bare skin; hearts mainly, sweet and happy faces and sad. Confessions too long for him to decipher from touch alone.  
  
Chanyeol felt like crying, but Baekhyun beat him to it.  
  
“This thing between us,” he whispered, “let’s end it.”

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

He couldn’t refuse him.  
  
Even now, Chanyeol still couldn’t refuse him. 

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Minutes turned into hours — the long hours into days.   
  
Chanyeol wished he could stop time. To say it was all an act. That the cheerful—fresh, merry, and still new—spark within him didn’t go missing with Baekhyun’s disappearance; that he didn’t struggle to smile, or didn’t feel forced to revert back to his old ways as means of keeping himself afloat. As he stared at the lounge they shared their first kiss on, wishing it could give him perspective and sanity. The ability to make sense of it all. Unbeknownst to Chanyeol, that was a lot to ask of a piece of upholstery.   
  
Happiness could never be replaced, he at least came to realize that day. Money could always be earned. Correspondingly, many of the things Chanyeol used to deem worth his commitment felt like just other ways to fill the void in his chest now, wanting and growing. Never waning. One second he felt perfectly fine, the next a gallon of heaviness was being shoved down his throat, drowning him in exchange; a heaviness weirdly reminiscent of what Chanyeol felt whenever he made out the sound of his cellphone ringing. It didn’t exist just to make noise, he knew that. He was aware a message was trying to get through, blaring to alert him some information was waiting on the other line. Just before he could pick it up, however, the habit of shutting the whole thing off kicked in. In a way, Chanyeol had always been scared of feeling his feelings in full.   
  
It was like they were stuck, like tar hovering near the surface of a lake. They just sat there stagnant, mixing with bones and water and dirt. Like the tar, Chanyeol’s feelings used to just sit there, not moving or burning. Or anything. Just stuck.  
  
How to free them or make them more liquid, he didn’t know.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

“So he’s really gone, huh?”  
  
Pushing her head past the door, Seungwan went on to sigh, “Finally.”  
  
Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at her. “Excuse me?”  
  
Only ten more minutes until he could go home. He could do this, Chanyeol thought, as he did a mental zoom-in on the papers strewn across his desk. He could absolutely do this.  
  
“That boy. Baekhyun, was it?”  
  
Or not. Maybe he could not do this.  
  
“I’m glad you decided to get rid of him,” she continued. Chanyeol could feel his fists ball up, one around his pen and the other on his thigh, helplessly trying to remind himself to stay focused. To remember this was for the best. That Baekhyun and him had crossed way too many lines and parting was only for the best. He told himself over and over again — over and over, Chanyeol tried to convince himself.  
  
To erase himself, like a drunk preacher cutting a rope.  
  
“There’s been a lot of rumors going around lately. I suppose they’re all false.” Why did his heart have to hurt so much though? To hear Baekhyun’s name, and to hear it used so flippantly, “You should be more careful with who you surround yourself with. He looked so out of place, it was almost comica—”  
  
It didn’t sit well with him.  
  
“How are you any different?”  
  
A pause. “What?”  
  
“I’m asking you: how are you any different?” In a moment of weakness, Chanyeol decided to mask his heartache with anger or, rather, the only viable he knew to be strong enough to cover the mess of an expression that lied underneath. “I find it brave of you to imply you’re of any value to this company,” he continued nevertheless, “when your entire appeal is to bring me coffee and dinner. No matter how hard I try, I can’t wrap my head around somebody wasting years of their life away in college only to come out a lousy waitress with a better salary — are you really that proud? Tell me, what gives you the leverage to believe you’re any better than him?”  
  
For a while, all she did was glare at him. When, “That... I-I—”  
  
“I could pick a random kid off the street.” Even Baekhyun would do. God; Baekhyun would do so well. “I could have you replaced right now. There would be no difference.”  
  
Scandalized, the girl subjected to his frustration stood up with a huff at last. Her cheeks reddened with pink embarrassment, “That’s outrageous,” she puffed, “and not true at all!”  
  
Chanyeol could remember, way back during one of his many random classes, learning how for decades females have been putting on blush to emulate the flush present during sexual intercourse. The original purpose had, in fact, been to attract men — and that in the most primal way there was. Funnily enough, the only flush Chanyeol ever found appealing was that of a male. This woman had nothing on him.  
  
He had a terrible, knowing inkling.  
  
“I beg to differ,” Chanyeol sighed, miffed.  
  
“You’re ridiculous!” Seungwan, after ogling him like a stranded fish for a while, exclaimed. Her voice heating up with the color in her face, “That kid was obviously after your money! How can you be so blind, Chanyeol?”  
  
“Did I miss something? When did I allow you to call me by my first name?”  
  
Again, she ignored the obvious signs telling her to, for a lack of better words, shut it. Chanyeol couldn’t have possibly been any more seething. Though he did outwardly appear as zen as the statue—the round, happy buddha—in his backyard, his mind was screaming bloody murder. By the time Seungwan spoke up again, he’d lost count of how many times he considered flinging her out the window. (13.)   
  
“Explain why else he’d be around you.” she continued, blissfully unaware. “Why else would a delinquent like that have any business with _you?_ You don't fit together at all!”  
  
They didn’t. It was true. They didn’t fit at all.  
  
“Assuming someone is a delinquent solely because they have tattoos is narrow-minded and, frankly, idiotic.” Chanyeol closed his eyes, beyond tired. “Pathetic.”  
  
“Th-That’s now what I—”  
  
“Secondly, Baekhyun has not once asked me for money. Quite the contrary actually.” _So, so damn tired._ “As opposed to you and all the other scum in this industry, he puts his value where it matters. You could never have his class.”  
  
The words meant to humble her only seemed to enrage the woman more, as she opened her mouth again and once more, wider and worlds louder. With a simple raise of his eyebrow, Chanyeol silenced her.  
  
“You’re giving me a headache. Leave.”  
  
Her ensuing outrage fell on deaf ears.   
  
Working his jaw, Chanyeol went to usher her outside, (and in the opposite direction of his office, his company, and hopefully his life,) “I think it goes without saying,” he deadpanned, “but I’m gonna say it anyway; you’re fired. I'd like you to never show your face around here again.”  
  
Her pitched voice felt like nails on a chalkboard to him, except the chalkboard was Chanyeol’s scalp and the nails an array of butcher knives. To make a long story short, it was brutal. He was about to open the door for her—a polite gesture surely undeserved—when Seungwan turned around with a fervor unexpected to the CEO. Glaring. _Boiling_.  
  
“I promise you’ll regret this.” she whispered.  
  
“A threat? I gotta admit, that’s kinda cute. Now scram—”  
  
Just as his lips fell shut at the last syllable, the door surprisingly tipped open; not by Chanyeol’s nor Seungwan’s accord however. In peered two faces, both similarly unknown to Chanyeol and, judging by the look of his (now ex-)assistant’s face, her as well. The male, though significantly shorter than Chanyeol, wore a face that looked capable of homicide — the woman’s, even smaller in stature and right beside him, not being too far behind in terms of detachment. Either had some element of relatability in Chanyeol’s exhausted eye, lined with circles. Filled with fatigue.   
  
Before he knew it, his confusions were eliminated in one fell swoop. 

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

“Can you... repeat that please?”  
  
It couldn’t be, Chanyeol foolishly assumed. It just couldn’t be.  
  
“Sure.” It simply—and plainly—couldn’t be. “My name is Joohyun. I’m Baekhyunnie’s therapist.”  
  
“His— ... nevermind, and you? Who are you?” Blinking in a daze, he turned to the man accompanying _Joohyun_. Any minute now, Chanyeol was ready to cause a scene. He had to strenuously remind himself, bad urges were like bus timetables; _not something to rely on, ever._ “I didn’t catch your name.”  
  
“I didn’t throw it.”  
  
Or perhaps they were. (Definitely weren’t.)   
  
“Kyungsoo.” The stranger corrected himself, shrugging at the dry silence he himself had just created. “Baekhyun’s homeroom teacher.”  
  
The three of them were sat in a car as foreign to Chanyeol as the feelings rumbling around his thorax, subtly choking him up. Why did he feel so curious then, and so hurt and also relieved... and also set free?  
  
Just, what on earth was happening to him?  
  
“Where are you taking me?” he asked, legs cramped in the backseat of the tiny convertible. Being tall was a great thing, really. If you had a big car. And a big bed. And a big everything. “And why does he need a therapist? How come I never knew? And why are you two here together, how are you even associate—”  
  
“Dude, take a breath.” Kyungsoo interrupted.  
  
Thankfully, the woman only appeared grumpy on the outside. Unlike her partner.  
  
“We’re siblings, so I guess that makes us associated by default.” she patiently explained, sending her guest warm eyes through the back mirror. “Well, we also work at the orphanage Baekhyunnie lives in, but that’s besides the point.” _O... Orphanage?_  
  
“The point being that the brat has started skipping classes again. It’s finals week too, for fuck’s sa—”  
  
“Kyungsoo. Language.”  
  
“For  _fucketh’s_  sake—”  
  
“No!”  
  
Right then, out of absolutely nowhere, it hit Chanyeol.  
  
That man in the passenger’s seat, the small one, sounded a whole lot like the ‘teacher’ he’d heard on the line that one time Baekhyun had called him from school, right after he pressured him into attending. It felt weird to Chanyeol, seeing him like this now; the guy didn’t look anywhere near as intimidating as Chanyeol had assumed him to be back then. If anything, he felt like he was watching a cupcake about to throw a (very mild) temper tantrum.  
  
It was almost a little bit sweet, he had to admit.   
  
“Long story short,” Joohyun slapped a hand on her brother’s mouth, her other gripping the steering wheel firmly, “he’s not doing too well. Actually, he’s not doing well at all.”  
  
“So? What does that have to do with me?”  
  
“Everything! It has everything to do with you.”  
  
“Right.” Chanyeol lifted a brow. He was starting to feel a tad irritated now, his voice fizzling out in part with his comprehension skills. “Look: I don’t know what he told you, but Baekhyun left _me_  — not the other way around. I did nothing to make him feel upset.” (Sooner or later, it would have probably happened either way. Chanyeol chose to keep that part to himself.)  
  
As of now, he was still convinced Baekhyun did the right thing.   
  
“It’s because he didn’t know any better,” she said in an unsure voice, “that’s why he left. He won’t admit it, but Baekhyun knows he made a mistake. He misses you, and it’s becoming hard for him to get anything done.”  
  
If only Chanyeol could poor that belief into his heart.  
  
“I...” He couldn’t. “Dammit.”  
  
He absolutely couldn’t do it.   
  
“Going back to your earlier question, it’s not that he necessarily _needs_ a therapist. Baekhyun has always been a very happy boy, however, he’s still an orphan.” Right. Apparently that was a thing. “There’s challenges he faces every day, some of which he might never fully verbalize to you. And, well, neither can I because... you know, patient confidentiality.”  
  
Bound by the law, of course. To Chanyeol, it made just enough sense to not ruffle his feathers.  
  
“I don’t know what to make of all this.” he admitted honestly, leaning against the slanted car-window. Another headache was erupting within the innermost depths of his skull. “So we’re driving to see him now, did I get at least that right?”  
  
“You did.” she nodded. Kyungsoo still hadn’t spoken up, at least not since his last verbal outbreak. “Like I said, I can’t share the troubles of his mind with you. What I can do, however, is try to help you understand why someone like Baekhyun might push someone like you away.”  
  
“Go ahead then.”  
  
It wasn’t much, but it was something. At this point, Chanyeol would take anything.  
  
Visibly trying to collect her thoughts, Joohyun hesitated momentarily. Chanyeol noticed how soft spoken she was, “You see, many orphans tend to develop a number of issues as they age and navigate life on their own. Commitment issues, abandonment issues. Fear of attachment. I hope I am not overstepping boundaries by sharing this, but whilst Baekhyunnie is obviously very stable for the most part, especially considering his history, he’s no superman. As much as he probably wants to be, he’s not.”  
  
“Seems like overstepping to me...” A soft voice atoned from her right.  
  
Chanyeol hummed as indication he was paying attention, absorbing the input of information like a sponge.  
  
“I take all responsibility.” she sighed. “In any case, it’s not that these kids believe they are undeserving of love and affection, but the thought does strike at times. It’s complicated. It’s like they try to claw their way into the light every once in a while, but the light is just as scary. So they try again. And again with the same outcome.”  
  
The light? As in — Chanyeol? Baekhyun thought it was scary, being with Chanyeol?  
  
“The sad truth is, most of them would rather quit.” she added with a watered down smile. “They’d rather be alone. It’s too much work.”  
  
“What am I supposed to do then? I’m not equipped to deal with this.” In fact, Chanyeol had a good amount of issues to sort out of his own.  
  
It was hard enough as was, realizing he wanted someone he couldn’t have. Realizing that someone maybe wanted him too, and realizing that even if—by some miracle—they did end up working out, a relationship would only be as troublesome as the feelings invading Chanyeol’s conscience right this moment. The public couldn’t find out, he’d be staked and buried if they did. His parents, the angels they were, would then dig him up and bury him again for good measure. Chanyeol had a feeling he’d be able to put all that aside— _because he just adored Baekhyun so much_ —but knowing how hard it would be still put a bitter taste in his mouth. Knowing Baekhyun came with his own set of burdens was like the unwanted cherry on top.  
  
It was a part of him, Chanyeol tried telling himself. It was wrong to fault Baekhyun for that.  
  
“He was visibly happier after spending time with you.” Joohyun hit the brakes. It appeared they’d arrived. “For the first time in years, he regularly attended his classes. He took care of himself. He stopped going to these parties that had him limping for days to come, and he smiled wherever he went. I want you to know that.”  
  
Chanyeol could feel himself in his chest. Again, softening for his longing.  
  
She seemed to notice, “So what’s a person to do, you ask?” Turning around in the driver’s seat, she eyed him with playful intrigue in her eyes, “Firstly, we need to understand that noticing our feelings and letting them bubble up like a hot spring doesn’t usually hurt anyone. But,” she paused, a teensy bit more serious, “our skin might be sensitive to the heat and we have to protect our feelings, just like how we can’t run face-first into a hot spring. You may need to be slow, find out a little about the feeling and ease into it. Learn all about it. Teach him everything you discover along the way.”  
  
A brilliant smile graced her lips, whispering a sense of misgiving onto Chanyeol’s features. Her lips shone blood-red, her voice smooth as silk. Talking in pure metaphor. Chanyeol wasn’t sure whether he fully understood any of what she was saying, but he supposed he did get the gist.  
  
His thoughts sounded like that most of the time too.   
  
“Once Baekhyunnie realizes you’re committed to the feeling, he will follow. It’s about building trust, of reassuring him and letting him know you’re in for the long haul. ‘That must have been frustrating’ or ‘I know what you mean’, even if you don’t, are great ways to soothe his nerves.”  
  
“Alright. I get it.” Or did he?  
  
“Great!” she beamed nonetheless. “Either way, just remember patience is key — Rome wasn’t built in one day, you know?”  
  
“But it did burn in one.” Kyungsoo fired back.   
  
Yet again, cue the bickering. Yet again, Chanyeol asked himself what the hell he had gotten himself into. 

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

Like a Christmas tree, Joohyun practically beamed all over once they entered the establishment, “Baekhyunnie tries hard to make this place look nice,” she announced, among many other things, “he painted some of the walls himself, way back in the day. He even takes time to decorate for the seasons!”  
  
The interior caught Chanyeol’s eye as she continued to comment on little things Baekhyun had contributed here and there, drawing a nod out of him with ease. Mainly red, like his hair, and alight with all sorts of decorations, once Kyungsoo switched the lights on.  
  
In the hallway, his eyes never ceased to wander.    
  
“That’s nice,” Chanyeol remarked offhandedly, “he did a good job.”  
  
This was Baekhyun’s home, he realized in a long-lived trance. This was where he spent most of his time. Where he grew up and where he went whenever Chanyeol’s responsibilities left him too occupied to deal with his antics; the same antics he’d pay good money to get back into his life now. That smile of his and the love letters it would send to his brain every single time without fail. Chanyeol couldn’t help missing. Couldn’t help wondering — wondering where they stood, and where he’d been.  
  
Wondering where Baekhyun had gone off to in the, give or take, 10 days they’d spent apart.  
  
“How come he doesn’t live in a real home?” Chanyeol mused, mostly to himself.  
  
“Oh, where to begin?” Joohyun chuckled even so, causing the CEO to perk up. He couldn’t quite discern the tone of her voice. “Bear in mind, I wasn’t there for when all of this happened. I’m only speaking from what other people have told me—”  
  
“It’s ‘cause he’s a pain in the ass.”  
  
“No! That’s not the case at all.” she grumbled, boxing Kyungsoo in the upper arm before going on to clarify, “It’s just, back then the orphanage used to struggle a lot with funding and such, so social workers were meager, which resulted in a lack of resources. There wasn’t anyone actively looking to find long-term housing for children or people willing to adopt. Or act as foster parents.”  
  
“Just get to the point already—”  
  
She hit him again, “ _Anyway_ , so when Baekhyunnie came here, he unfortunately ended up flying under the radar a lot. He’s always been a bit of a troublemaker too, so the few parents we did have come by especially weren’t interested in him.”  
  
Harsh. Chanyeol felt for him.  
  
“What happened then...?”  
  
“He grew up.” she lifted a finger, along with the edge of her mouth. “As soon as Baekhyun started to understand what was going on around him, he bonded with everyone. The staff, as well as the children. He didn’t want to leave anymore.”  
  
“But he knew others did.” Kyungsoo cut in, probably to propel the story onward as judged by his apparent, impatient nature. Chanyeol listened carefully.  
  
“Right. Whenever it was visitation day, he’d intentionally make himself look bad in order to increase the other kids’ chances of getting picked. Even when somebody came directly for him, he’d try to redirect their attention.”  
  
“Like I said,” Kyungsoo smiled — he actually _smiled_ , “a real pain in the ass, that kid.”  
  
Chanyeol bit his lip, peeking his head into what appeared to be one giant playroom as the words danced around his ears. Teddy bears cluttered the various pieces of furniture, toys and fluffy carpets giving the space a feel of comfort. It was completely foreign to Chanyeol.  
  
“Tell me more,” he mumbled absentmindedly.  
  
“You wanna know of his past, don’t you?” Joohyun giggled. “I guess we can fill you in... just a little. Right, Soo?”  
  
The man only shrugged, but it was all the confirmation she needed.  
  
“Well, as you can probably tell already, Baekhyunnie has always been a very selfless boy. He’s not known as our little pride for nothing!” Clearly pleased, Joohyun started reminiscing. Her words, sweet and soft, breathed a small smile on Chanyeol’s face. “Which is great. Of course it is. But...”  
  
In no time, it was wiped off.   
  
“I just wish someone would have told him it was okay to be selfish.” With a shake of her head, Joohyun slowed down her steps. The building was far larger than expected, Chanyeol noticed belatedly, before he came to a halt as well, “He wildly refused to be taken home and loved every kid to pieces. At the playground nearby, he’d protect them from bullies — can you imagine? Baekhyunnie specifically learned to fight so he could look after his brothers and sisters. To this day, they still go to him for help. He’s like a god to them.”  
  
Chanyeol could feel his eyes grow to the size of golfballs. Byun Baekhyun? _Fighting?_  
  
“Don’t let his size fool you, he’d knock you out in a second.” Kyungsoo intervened. Somehow, Chanyeol believed him doubtlessly. “He’s pretty infamous for his right hook.”  
  
“Yeah. He’d lose a fair amount too though.” Pursing her lips, Joohyun crossed her arms. Her demeanor changed in accord with Kyungsoo’s, both looking somewhat troubled with the direction the conversation was taking. Chanyeol found it interesting, seeing as they were the ones directing it. “And thanks to his problematic reputation, he got himself involved with all the wrong crowds as a result. It wasn't easy. Watching him mature on his own terms.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Frowning, he coerced himself back into the limelight.  
  
“Bad influences,” The woman simply stated, “and very bad consequences. To put it plainly, he’s had enough run-ins with the police at age fifteen to last him a life time.”  
  
_Oh._  “Yikes.”  
  
”Yikes indeed.”  
  
In retrospect, Chanyeol thought it was kind of humorous. How everything seemed to—at least in some way—relate back to their first meeting; back to when Baekhyun told Chanyeol he’d never dare to fight him on the sole basis of him being bigger, which apparently was a blatant lie. When he hinted at his involvement with the police. Which wasn’t a lie but understandably came across as one.  
  
What a boy indeed. What a plot twist.  
  
“He went through a lot,” Kyungsoo said, still flat yet laced with woe.  
  
“You can imagine the kinda things he was pressured into doing. Drunk tattoos are only the tip of the iceberg.” Joohyun pursed her lips. “Except for his neck, most of the things Baekhyunnie’s done to his body are likely meaningless. Speaking of, can you believe he got his nipples pierced in a parking lot? One of them got infected so badly he had to go to the emergency room and have it removed.”  
  
Kyungsoo scoffed, “While hitting on the doctor until he threatened to throw his ass on the street.”  
  
“Honestly, he overreacted,” she narrowed her eyes at the other, “it was obviously a coping mechanism.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t. Stop enabling his behavior.”  
  
“Excuse _you._ Who has the psych degree here, you or me?”  
  
Chanyeol followed the interaction with fluttering eyes and a constant frown, marred by concern and surprise. He was overwhelmed, both with what he was hearing and the way those two seemed to have shed all regard for ‘confidentiality’; the way his lungs opened wide with need as he came to realize there really, truly was nothing he didn’t want to know about Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun who had always been so much quicker than him. So much wilder. Byun Baekhyun who should have come with a warning sign but didn’t.   
  
Byun Baekhyun who had Chanyeol’s heart before he could say no.   
  
Realization. Without missing a beat, it grew within him as anxiety took Chanyeol by the throat. He was in love, he realized. He loved Baekhyun. He didn’t just like him, like he thought he did, he actually _loved_ him — what the hell? The second the three finally wound up at Baekhyun’s door, panic claimed him whole; like nuclear material, Chanyeol’s emotions flashed out of control, the second he saw Baekhyun’s hunched form through the transom window above the dark wood door of his room. Coloring his thoughts, shaping how he communicated. Undermining his best intentions.  
  
Expectedly, poor decision making was only bound to be part of the aftermath.  
  
“Shit.” Chanyeol whispered, shaking in his knees. “I don’t wanna do this. I’m going the fuck home.”  
  
He was met with a mix of shock and rejection, “What,” Joohyun gaped, “wait, _what?”_  
  
She tried to reach for him, closely followed by Kyungsoo’s—for once not empty—big eyes screening his every movement. Chanyeol felt like a mouse in a trap. Anything he wasn’t meant to have, he wanted, and now that it was time to pay up his first instinct was sheer, cut-throat refusal. At the end of the day, Chanyeol had always been a greedy man.  
  
He wasn’t virtuous. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t sympathetic.  
  
Merely and above all, Chanyeol was greedy.   
  
“Please don’t leave.” Eventually, Joohyun got a hold of him. “Baekhyunnie needs someone like you.”  
  
“I don’t care. It was never meant to go this far.” he responded quickly, blurting the first thing that came to mind. Anything to convince her and her brother and, most gravely, himself. “He’s just a kid, I can’t love him! I’d be putting my entire livelihood on the line — and for what? Love? Who gives a fuck about love?”  
  
“Please quieten down.” Joohyun only seemed somewhat swayed, when she averted her gaze, “I... I get it, I think, but...” Like a kicked dog, her eyes lit up for one short second, “Don’t you at least wanna check up on him? Aren’t you curious to know how he’s managing?”  
  
It was a trap. It didn’t take Chanyeol two eyes to see that.  
  
“Of course I am,” Yet, his voice lowered to a breath. He felt the weakest he’d ever felt, like he was about to melt into a puddle below their feet and get swallowed by the floor, “I’m so worried I can hardly think straight. But it’s not right, I know it’s not. I know now that curiosity only ever leads to trouble—”  
  
His rant was cut off by a familiar voice.  
  
“No wonder I met you then.”  
  
Within seconds, Chanyeol’s jaw was on the floor.  
  
“Oh my god,” he gasped, retreating until his back hit the wall behind him, “B-Baekhyun, I—”  
  
Where — just, _where the hell did he come from?_  
  
“ _Just a kid_ , you say?” he scoffed. “ _You can’t love me_ , you say?”  
  
First and foremost, Baekhyun looked just like described to Chanyeol; which was a nice way of saying, downright terrible. His hair was faded down to a brassy peach, he noticed first, the smell of black coffee invading the few feet in distance separating them. Yesterday’s eyeliner was smudged under his eyes, skin unusually dry, cheeks thin; in all honesty, the small glimpse Chanyeol had gotten earlier didn’t do him justice. Baekhyun was an unsightly train wreck for sure, rocking one of Chanyeol’s old hoodies he’d stolen as if to counteract the foreign love bites blooming all over his pale neck. Compelling the CEO’s imagination many days, many days and many hours.  
  
It was like winter, observing him. It was like driving up north to see the colors.   
  
Chanyeol felt a little sick inside.   
  
“ _Putting your entire livelihood on the line_ , you say?” Baekhyun continued against better judgment, laughing humorlessly. “Well, I’m sorry for being such a big fucking burden apparently, but I never asked you to do any of that. Prick.”  
  
His feet were rooted to the ground; the weight of his own words keeping him motionless. Settling uncomfortably in Chanyeol’s bones.  
  
“No... no no no, hear me out, Baek, I didn’t—”  
  
“Hm? What did you say?” Baekhyun cut in promptly, the air of a sulky child surrounding him as he held one mocking hand to his ear. Stepping back into his doorframe, when clarity dawned upon Chanyeol, “I can’t hear you,” he added, “I have an ear disease called _I Don’t Give A Shit._ ”  
  
Great. Just great. Absolutely wonderful.  
  
“I’m sorry, okay? Baekhyun, I’m _sorry._ ” Chanyeol hurried, relieved from the stiffness in his muscles at last. However, it was too late. Just as he took one step forward, Baekhyun took two back — ultimately throwing the door in his face. “Don’t—fuck.”  
  
Joohyun joined him in knocking the wood in. Too soon, they realized there was no point.  
  
Baekhyun had successfully locked himself in.  
  
“Open up,” she pleaded, “Baekhyun.”  
  
“ _No_.” Loud and sharp, even through the thick door, came her response. “That’s Spanish for _No,_ in case you didn’t know.”  
  
“Come on, let’s just calm down for a mome—wait, a-are you crying?”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyebrows rose in surprise, ears pointed as he pressed closer to the door. Joohyun turned out to be perceptive as a bat—as expected of someone of her profession—since it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was right. Baekhyun was sitting with his back to the door, hence why Chanyeol couldn’t see him through the window anymore, his sniffles only slightly discernible through the door. What a day to be an asshole, his missing wit declared all too suddenly.  
  
What a goddamn day to be the biggest asshole to ever exist in existence.  
  
“I’m not,” Baekhyun responded sourly, “I’m just... having an allergic reaction to that commercial with Jennifer Garner and her dad. Yeah, that one.”  
  
It would have been funny, had it not been so damn heartbreaking. (The TV wasn’t even on.)  
  
“You know I didn’t mean any of that. Please don’t cry.” Chanyeol slammed his forehead on the door frontal, scowling to himself. _At_ himself. “Let me in, Baekhyun, I’m begging you. Let’s talk this out like adults.”  
  
“Adults? But I’m a _kid_ , aren’t I?” A sound foreign and entirely unpleasant to the other’s ear, Baekhyun sneered. “Go fuck your assistant or something.”  
  
“I...” _What?_ “I fired her. Also, why the hell would I do that?”  
  
At that, the other went silent for a second.  
  
“You’re seriously asking me that?” Baekhyun’s voice grew quieter by the minute, until the taller felt tempted to kick the door down. Just to hear him better. “You know, Chanyeol, for someone so intelligent... you are awfully stupid.”  
  
“I know I am.” He knew for sure. “Now let me in.”  
  
Silence ensued. Long, crippling silence.  
  
“Look to your right, Yeol,” Just before Chanyeol could have lost his mind for good, Baekhyun spoke up. His voice was soft and gentle, and he almost sounded a little, dare he say... loving? Forgiving? “Are you looking?”  
  
“Uhm. Yeah?”  
  
Knowing him though, Chanyeol could take a guess as to where this was going.  
  
Baekhyun replied, “On the ground there, it says you should fuck off.”  
  
A groan left Chanyeol. The boy sure could be predictable sometimes.   
  
Next to him, Kyungsoo snorted which, for the most part, went unnoticed by everyone. Chanyeol felt so guilty still, so pained. Baekhyun was crying, and he was crying because of _him_. Responsibilities paled in his eyes then, the public suddenly consisting of only unimportant faces. His family as grey as he remembered it being when he was a young boy. For once, Chanyeol wished for the ability to vent the tension building between his eyes, but the tears hadn’t flown in years. (Not that letting them out helped him any the last time he tried it.)  
  
His heart, no longer leaping. No longer soaring.   
  
Against his ribcage, it broke into a million pieces.  
  
“Talk to me.” However, so did his patience. “I swear to god, Baekhyun, if you don’t open up right now—”  
  
Chanyeol glowered in anger, frantically pulling on the doorknob until both Joohyun and Kyungsoo had no choice other than to forcibly remove him from the scene. It wasn’t like they misunderstood his urgency, more like they were aware; aware of time and place, the fact that it was nearing 10 p.m on a school night. Shockingly enough, Baekhyun’s neighbors weren’t middle-aged men sitting in front of the TV after a long day at work. Chanyeol was disturbing children — literal _children_.  
  
At any rate, it was time for him to let it be. At least for the time being.  
  
“You know...” Joohyun mumbled as they made their way back down the same hallways. The same entrance. The same porch. “When I told you to reassure him, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”  
  
Chanyeol was sure the look on her face was going to haunt him for many nights to come. 


	6. six.

**vi. agape**  
selfless altruistic love; spiritual love

 

Chanyeol asked his sisters. He asked his brothers. He even asked his parents.   
  
How to get a loved one back for one; how to induce a change of heart for two. Retrieve forgiveness for three. Mercy unearned for four. Summer blew in with the scent of strawberries, breathing flowers on everyone’s cheeks and necklines, and Chanyeol was dying for an answer. Most were of roughly the same nature. ( _“Be patient.”_  Yoora had advised over the phone, similar to his other relatives’ 08/15 responses. _“Take it slowly. Be gentle. Be reliable. Be good.”_ )  
  
Honestly, Chanyeol couldn’t identify with one thing he was told. When he returned to the orphanage not a day later only to find himself being ignored upon trying to utilize the tactics he’d been taught, deeming them rightful (because they were, he knew they were) on account of his own inexperience, frustration came to knock at his door again. Before Chanyeol knew it, the visitor’s unpacked, started to take over his house. Putting leaks into the roof that might cost hundreds of thousands and put him into debt.  
  
At this point, Chanyeol was nearly always in debt and he was sick of it. He was tired of it.  
  
_“I can’t even look at you.”_ Baekhyun had told him first thing in the morning subsequent to their last encounter. It pained Chanyeol. He knew, ultimately, that he was the one at fault, knew _sorry_  couldn’t fix everything, but the waiting and hoping tortured. It tortured nonetheless. When he knew this was all he wanted.   
  
Being patient, taking things slow. Following the rules as he was used to doing.   
  
It wasn’t an option any longer.

 

 

 

 

— ♡°◌

 

 

 

 

“Love is a weakness and an evolutionary mistake.”   
  
“And yet, here you are.” Joohyun gestured around them, her smile warm as the color of her lipstick. As if Chanyeol didn’t force her to take the day off, much as he forced himself.  
  
Nevertheless, he still almost chucked his wallet at her. “You’re on thin ice, woman.”   
  
In fierceness, in longing. In heat, Chanyeol dragged his feet along the floor of a place he didn’t think he’d be seeking out any time soon if it weren’t for the feelings ruling his conscience, steering him, prompting him to do things he knew were outrageous at the root. The fire, in knowing, only grew all the more.  
  
Chanyeol would do anything for his love.  
  
“You know, it probably wouldn’t hurt to give him some time to cool down first.” Joohyun spoke up as a petite-looking woman opened a door for them. “Baekhyunnie doesn’t hold grudges very well anyway. He’ll run out of steam eventually.”  
  
“Don’t care. Is Kyungsoo all set?”   
  
The plan he’d constructed in his sleep last night was quite simple. There were obvious flaws to it, but Chanyeol didn’t know what else to do. To him, being without Baekhyun was like being without the sun; he  _needed_  him, he needed him now, and he needed him to shine or else he’d wither, shrivel up, and fade out of existence, their precious memories within stone’s throw. Like a flower unable to bloom, Chanyeol was ready to risk it all for a drop of light. Even if he got too close. Even if it ended up killing him anyway. (At least he could say he died for something then.)   
  
Yes, Chanyeol did believe being with Baekhyun could end him. Yes, he wanted to be with him anyway. No, he had no idea how to do that. Had absolutely _zero_ clue how to win his heart back without wasting weeks pining and begging, grieving and chasing a star missing its prettiest spark. Unfortunately for Chanyeol, there were only so many things Baekhyun liked in terms of gifts. He wasn’t a materialistic person by any means. (Quote unquote, _“I like being happy and having lots of sex — that’s about it.”_ )   
  
All Chanyeol could do was wait. Wait and hope his intuition saved him one more time.   
  
“Yes,” answered Joohyun with a sigh-turned-half-smile, “I still can’t believe you got him to play along by the way.”  
  
Chanyeol shrugged, just before his options were presented to him for examination. Frankly, he only took one short look before making his pick. According to Kyungsoo, Baekhyun would be back from classes—which he wasn’t at all dragged to by his ears, no—in around half an hour or so, so time was sitting at his cross, mingling with the embers and the coal. In synergy with his watch shifting to announce the break of noon, Chanyeol’s feet propelled him out of the stuffy environment with his newest acquisition and Joohyun, barely able to conceal her growing excitement, in tow. All sorts of people were looking from beneath their umbrellas, sharing her sentiment. Chanyeol was starting to feel a little silly now.  
  
The feeling only increased when they returned to the orphanage. Hands full of surprises, Joohyun went off to  _‘set things up’_ whereas Kyungsoo remained on position, probably feeling just as stupid as Chanyeol, where he would then carry out his part of the mission. Given their situation, it was clear the teacher only agreed to help because he was sick of Baekhyun moping around all day instead of studying, but Chanyeol still felt grateful. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember ever having felt this grateful.   
  
There was no sugarcoating it; how, all throughout their journey, he hadn’t been able to do one thing on his own. Ranging from Zhang Yixing, a stranger, to Baekhyun’s literal therapist, helping hands from everywhere reached out to push Chanyeol in the right direction. To help him, help him understand when he was so reluctant to. So blind. Now that Chanyeol could finally see, the solution couldn’t be any more blatant, and it was tragic — tragically sad in the most ironic of ways.  
  
At the end of the day, Chanyeol was an overachiever. A go-getter if you will. A slave to ambition.   
  
(Yet, he couldn’t even do something as simple as love somebody properly.)  
  
_Water off a duck’s back,_ he told himself repeatedly. Shaking the doubts off once and for all, Chanyeol found himself in one of the childrens’ playrooms where he soon spotted Baekhyun, the space almost identical to the one his younger self’d been huffing and puffing over only a couple nights prior. Thoughts of a better childhood filled him, then escaped him all again when a child crossed his path near the entrance, bumping into Chanyeol on accident.  _Hard._  
  
The impact unexpectedly set off a lightbulb in his head.  
  
“Hey, can you—it’s okay, stop apologizing—can you do me a favor?” he asked, stopping the babbling boy. Meanwhile, Baekhyun had yet to notice him. “Go and tell Baekhyunnie he looks great in that shirt.”  
  
Chanyeol was losing. Losing again. With Baekhyun, he was always losing.  
  
When the kid nodded, smiling cluelessly like kids so often did, and went to deliver the message, Chanyeol and Baekhyun finally caught eyes across the room. The redhead was collapsed over a table, looking tired and a little delirious with his janky clothes, bedhead (think a mild version of Robin Williams in  _Jumanji_ going _“What year is it?”_ ) but beautiful to Chanyeol nonetheless. Red under the eyes, invoking memories aimed at his gut and chest, expanding left, right, center. Yes, Chanyeol was losing again, but so slowly it felt like history erasing itself. Like the coliseum falling into ruins.  
  
And he didn’t mind. For the very first time, Chanyeol didn’t mind losing.  
  
The kid returned in no time, “He said you’re stupid,” recited the words one by one, “and that you and your whole family are virgins. What’s a virgin, sir?”  
  
Needless to say, it took Chanyeol a second to process, well, _that._ In the meantime, the confused pout he was looking at prompted him to look somewhere else — precisely at Baekhyun who was wearing a look similar to the boy’s, minus the innocence. Minus the childlike purity. He was all hush and flush in his seat, turning away as soon as Chanyeol tried to offer a smile.   
  
“He didn’t say that.” It was adorable, really. “Are you serious?”  
  
“I’ve never been more serious in my life, sir.”  
  
Like he was being screened for drugs, the boy’s eyebrows snapped into a humorless frown. Chanyeol struggled to scour his brain for responses.   
  
“You’re like ten. Calm down.” he eventually deadpanned before turning to take his leave. “It hasn’t been that lon—”  
  
“Wait! You haven’t answered my question!”  
  
“R-Right.” _Yuck._ “Never heard of that word. Sorry.”  
  
Clumsily patting the boy’s hair, the CEO—after throwing a halfhearted _Ask Baekhyun later_ over his shoulder—stalked over to the other side of the room; aka the side Baekhyun was at. Like that, he brushed his little helper off. (With all due respect, Chanyeol wasn’t going to spend his afternoon enlightening an elementary schooler on the wonders of procreation. Not exactly his shtick.)   
  
“H—”  
  
“One word,” Baekhyun scowled as he came nearer, “if you say one word, I’m gonna pull you over this table and castrate you with a rusty spoon.”  
  
In less than an instant, Chanyeol felt himself shivering at the coldness... and the mental image. Even though he apologized countless times and sent more sappy texts than he could justify to himself. Skipped every meal at work to come visit during his break. Even though he did all that, Baekhyun was still cold.  
  
And Chanyeol was still sorry.  
  
“But how can I not say anything when you’re being so pretty?” (However, he was also dedicated and impatient and there was hardly a more disastrous combination in the world.) “Look at you, all red again. I guess you still can’t handle compliments. Reminds me of that night we fu—”  
  
Immediately, Baekhyun sprang up from his chair to clasp Chanyeol’s mouth shut. His eyes briefly scanned over the room, presumably to see if anybody had heard them (which they hadn’t), when reality him him up-close. Unwaveringly holding eye-contact, Chanyeol pursed his lips against the flat of Baekhyun’s palm. This, he realized, without a doubt was the closest they’d been in weeks.   
  
For a second, Chanyeol forgot all about his plan. All about his intent. For a second, all he wanted was to rip Baekhyun’s hand away and lean in; seal his need with a kiss if he had to.  
  
“Ugh!” That notion was positively trampled underfoot when Baekhyun went and waltzed straight past him. “You’re such an idiot! Self-serving bastard!”  
  
“W-Wait,” Chanyeol followed, suddenly nervous, “where are you going?”   
  
“My room, where else would I be going? Stop following me!”   
  
_Oh, lord_  — what time was it? It was time to panic, that’s what time it was. Chanyeol was supposed to stall Baekhyun. He was supposed to give Joohyun time, whatever it was she needed it for. How he ended up doing the exact opposite was beyond him. (Then again, it was hardly surprising.)  
  
Trying to reach out several times, Chanyeol let out a sigh. Each of his attempts got dodged masterfully, “Can you slow down?  _Please._ ”  
  
“Hello, police? There’s a madman in my house—”  
  
With a prolonged groan, Chanyeol ripped the phone out of Baekhyun’s hold.   
  
“Stop acting like a brat and let me talk to you.” he demanded, authorative. Similar to how he spoke at work but softer. As fate would have it, the reception differed gravely in a lot of ways.   
  
“First of all, this is no act.” There was an eye twitch. “Second of all, no.”  
  
The moment they arrived in front of Baekhyun’s doorstep was the moment Chanyeol’s patience clicked out at last. Yanking him back by the arm, he simultaneously took ahold of both Baekhyun’s wrists and shoved them into the dark wood, breath heady and affected. Wide eyes blinked back at him, walls up for the world to either worship or break down. Chanyeol wasn’t sure which one it was gonna be.   
  
Before he could make his decision, his gaze randomly shifted to the small window atop Baekhyun’s head. Chanyeol’s mouth, within a quarter of a second, ran dry at the sight.   
  
“What’s wrong with you? Geez,” Baekhyun huffed, taking advantage of the other’s rigid form to rid himself off his hands. With ease, he shrugged them off before immediately grabbing for the knob at his back.  
  
Everything that happened from that moment onward was a blur.  
  
Once fully backed into his room, Baekhyun slammed on the brakes without a taste of warning. He didn’t seem to notice Chanyeol sticking to him like a second shadow; neither did he seem to notice the sound of the door falling in its lock behind them. Courtesy of Kyungsoo—who had been waiting in a nearby room with a key for far too long now—it would remain that way too.  
  
As regards surroundings, Baekhyun didn’t seem to notice a single thing.   
  
“Fucking... what the fuck?” He was just standing there, knitting his brows. Working his jaw. “Who the fuck... fucking... how the the fuck did you...”  
  
Following Baekhyun’s line of vision, Chanyeol let out an awkward laugh.  
  
“Well, that sure illustrates the diversity of the word.”   
  
Like a pink elephant in the middle of church, his _surprise_ waited on Baekhyun’s bed to be coddled and touched, picked up and above. So far so good — up to this point, Chanyeol couldn’t have been any more satisfied with what he was seeing. However, things didn’t quite end there.  
  
Tiny barks in quick succession. Baekhyun looked positively flabberghasted.   
  
“Chanyeol.” he blurted. “Explain. _Now_.”  
  
“His name is Mongryeong. He’s yours.”  
  
Yes. It was true.  
  
He bought Baekhyun a puppy.  
  
It happened.  
  
As strange it seemed, Chanyeol felt good about it too (after all, a dog is what had brought them together in the first place), but again, that’s not exactly where the line had been drawn for him. The glaring fact was, Chanyeol didn’t ask for all _this;_ the tinted flowery bits strewn across the bed, petals of various rose breeds streaking the sheets as if he’d ordered himself a sky from a florist. Neither had he asked for the red sweater on Mongryeong’s pudgy body, spelling out the four words _I ♡ MY DADS_ in tasteful Comic Sans. Chanyeol really, honestly didn’t ask for any of that.  
  
On the contrary, he at least knew what Joohyun needed the extra time for now.   
  
“Mine?” Reclaiming all of Chanyeol’s attention through the power of one voice break alone, Baekhyun shakily walked towards the bed. His flailing hands were reaching out, mouth opening and closing at the grand display presented to him by his own four walls. Blind to the details plaguing Chanyeol’s mind, Baekhyun appeared to be focusing on Mongryeong and Mongryeong only.  
  
“I... Okay, I think I know what’s going on here.” he added in a mix of awe and something the other couldn’t quite place, lifting the caramel mutt into his flailing arms. “You’re using my biggest weakness to bribe me into forgiving you—”  
  
“ _Bribe_?” Chanyeol’s laugh was quickly cut short by Baekhyun’s whiny voice.  
  
“Let me finish! I always let you finish!” he huffed, forehead puckered as he sucked in a breath, evidently trying to contain a reaction to Mongryeong yawning against his chest. Seeing as he was only a baby, the day's hectic events must have been tiring on him. “What I was going to say,” Baekhyun continued, “as the smartest person in the room, I feel like it’s my duty to praise you. This is genius. Einstein wants what you have.”  
  
But Mongryeong wasn't the only one feeling a bit under the weather, as Chanyeol came to realize the emotion he had trouble deciphering on Baekhyun's face earlier was fatigue. Rows of fatigue. Rows of tearbags.  
  
It made him feel even worse, knowing he must have been responsible for that too.  
  
“However, there’s one little thing you forgot.” Baekhyun continued, yanking Chanyeol right back out of his mind palace.  
  
He raised a brow, “And that is?”  
  
“That I’m a fucking mess.” Surprisingly, Baekhyun’s whole demeanor changed with that sentence lone. He looked terribly genuine and terribly exhausted. “I can’t even take care of myself, Chanyeol. How do you expect me to take care of a puppy?”   
  
His shoulders, tense with old resentment. Old sadness.  
  
Old hope.   
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Wh—”  
  
The moment their eyes locked was the moment Chanyeol ceased all thought.  
  
“Move in with me.” he elaborated, voice firm. “Two is better than one. Let’s raise him together.”  
  
A pair of twinkling eyes shone back at him, like two twin moons in the great dining hall, and Chanyeol was in love. Just like how he knew Baekhyun was going to be an assload of trouble when he first met him, he knew he loved him now. It just felt too easy. The thought.  
  
The thought of keeping said assload of trouble only to himself.  
  
“Is this a joke?” Baekhyun blanked, unaware of the blarney Chanyeol’s brain was conjuring for him in the meantime. “This has to be a joke. This is a really bad joke, Chanyeol. No one is laughing.”  
  
Granted, days before he would've very likely had the same reaction.   
  
“That’s because it isn’t a joke.” Shaking his head no, Chanyeol closed the distance between them and stared the pup in Baekhyun’s arms down as means of stifling his own embarrassment. The rain still blasting down the windows, completing the picture; the sound of Chanyeol’s pulse knocking at his ribcage when he crouched a tad further down to accept a kiss—as Mongryeong was so obviously begging to give him one—only realizing how close of a predicament that put them in when he came back up again. His nose was mere inches from Baekhyun’s, as were his flushing cheeks.   
  
It was now or never, he realized. Do or do not.   
  
In matters of the heart, there was no try.   
  
“You’ve made my house a home, Baek.” Chanyeol dropped his voice to a murmur; still close enough to breathe the same air as his frozen counterpart when he leaned in even further. “Isn’t it only natural for me to wanna share it with you?”  
  
Around his new owner’s arms, Mongryeong whined, displeased with the lack of attention directed his way. But Baekhyun had none to give. All he did was stare ahead as Chanyeol leaned forward to place a gentle, slow kiss on the small part of his forehead not covered by hair.  
  
Despite all the split ends, Chanyeol still considered it pretty. He was that far gone.   
  
“ _Natural_ my ass!” Baekhyun, however, wasn’t having any of it. “Just a few days ago, you clearly said—”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“Dammit, will you stop interrupt m—wait _what?_ ”  
  
“Just a few days ago, that’s what I meant to say.” Each of Chanyeol’s hairs was standing on end. To rid himself off the dark down his throat, he had no idea it’d be this freeing. “That’s what I was _supposed_ to say, but I chose to be stupid instead. I chose to run, which ended up hurting not only me but also you. And I couldn’t be more sorry.”  
  
It was quick. It was short. It was sweet. It made the whole room cave in on itself.   
  
Like he himself had been laid in ashes, Baekhyun’s eyes glazed over with rubble, smithereens, the dust of the past taking him by the scruff—the very same placement his hands were assuming to ruffle the Corgi’s,  _his_  Corgi’s, stubby fur—and his lips parting only to then sew shut again. Wet, they glistened under the overhead lights. The spark so complimentary to the sunshine leaking out of his soul.   
  
Right then, something with wings went crazy in Chanyeol’s chest.  
  
“I don’t wanna run anymore, Baekhyun.” It was like falling all over again. “Look at me, please. I love you.”  
  
Visibly, Baekhyun tensed again. It took him a long time to find his voice, “I... listen, Yeol, I—”  
  
Once he did, it came out nothing short of a whisper. But it was too late.  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t readjust his speed; the truth wanted out, and it wanted out  _now—_  
  
“I know I’ve been insincere in the past! I’ve been confused, I’ve hurt you, I thought you needed me more than I needed you,” In one breath, he had Baekhyun’s jaw cupped between his palms, desperate to connect even if it had to be by force. He needed Baekhyun to see this — to feel this like he felt it. “Turns out, I’d take a literal knife to the chest for you. Imagine that.”  
  
Like a secret or a sin exposed to the open, he was dying to taste him again.    
  
“Stop it.” Baekhyun replied in a minuscule voice, immediately biting even the littlest traces of mirth off his lips when Mongryeong fell into a light sleep in his arms.   
  
The sun was hiding like a pair of sad black eyes, the few stray tears Baekhyun continued to shed prompting Chanyeol to draw his thumbs all over his closed eyelids. Never before had he felt as compelled to spoil somebody as rotten as he did on that day, in that room. Surrounded by picture frames of people Chanyeol could only assume to be relatives, possibly deceased. Possibly not.  
  
Birds, birds everywhere. On every picture frame. Every wall.  
  
“No.” he whispered, wanting to erase what the sight reminded him of. “Look, I know how much you love to call me old, but I  _am_ at that age where I don’t wanna play around anymore. I wanna settle down and grow old together, Baekhyun. So please — please believe me when I say you don’t have to be afraid of trusting me. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t leave you.”  
  
_Commitment issues, abandonment issues. Fear of attachment._  
  
Wrapping his free hand around the other’s forearm, Baekhyun promptly crashed Chanyeol’s train of thought. He was frighteningly pale, his voice shaking when he exhaled,  “Promise then.”  
  
Chanyeol gave pause. “Promise?”  
  
“Promise you’ll never leave me. I don’t care if you don’t mean it.”  
  
Right then, Baekhyun had never been any more open. Not even when he cried under Chanyeol on that night a few weeks back, making him feel like it was Christmas, New Years and Thanksgiving combined.   
  
Saying he wasn’t as tough as he made himself out to be when Chanyeol was convinced there wasn’t a single person in his family tree as resilient as him.   
  
“Yes... yes, yes, yes—” Subconsciously squishing Baekhyun’s cheeks tighter, he hurried to reply, “Promise!”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded, knowing this wasn’t something one could easily promise. He promised anyway, wallowing in the feeling of Baekhyun’s free hand as it traveled up his arm, trailing each word they spoke, the desperation clear as day in the depth of his eyes. Like a vice, his fingers hooked around Chanyeol’s. Baekhyun wasn’t trembling, but he might as well have.  
  
For a second, it looked like he wasn’t going to say anything. Like he was going to shut him out again. When, out of the blue, their eyes met and he slammed his face into Chanyeol’s unmoving chest.  
  
“This isn’t fair.” Baekhyun whimpered, voice muffled by silk. “I loved you first, you baboon. Stupid monkey man.”   
  
Peering down at the mop of hair glued to his front, Chanyeol fought the urge to coo. There was something indescribably tender about the way Baekhyun’s fingers clasped around the material of his suit; something indescribably real about the way his voice frayed ever so slightly around the edges when he, for once, let his guard down. Star- and awestruck, Chanyeol dropped his hands from Baekhyun’s face and wrapped them around his back instead, rubbing soothing circles along the muscles in hopes of calming them. Before he knew it, they were moving towards the bed.  
  
His voice came out fittingly light, “It’s not a competition.”  
  
“You’re right, it’s not. It’s a fucking game and I’m winning.”  
  
Chanyeol was certain he heard Baekhyun follow up with something along the lines of  _deal with it, old man,_ but he couldn’t be too sure. Seeing as he had yet to come out of hiding, his voice was as dim as the storm brewing outside, refusing to burn out. It brought back memories of that day, the day he allowed him into his house for the first time.   
  
It all seemed so far away now. Chanyeol knew he wasn’t the only one transformed by time.  
  
Once forced to a halt, he gently pushed Baekhyun onto the mattress. The forgotten petals instantly encased their bodies like the red sea, red heat swallowing hearts and releasing them into the current with the leniency of a still pond. Like so many other things, that was new to Chanyeol too.  
  
“That’s fine with me.” he mumbled belatedly, caught in the waves. “You can have this one. I don’t mind.”  
  
Letting Mongryeong go to nap on the pillow beside them, Baekhyun gallantly fell to his back. The second Chanyeol followed, dropping his elbows in the crevice right above Baekhyun’s shoulders, was the second time stopped for good.  
  
Attempting—and clearly struggling—to reel in the waterfalls, Baekhyun treaded his hands along the curves of Chanyeol’s jaw, “Dude,” he echoed, “that’s romantic as fuck.”   
   
Chanyeol tried to refrain from laughing, but the dimples were already out. “I know.”  
  
With a barely discernible chuckle, he parted Baekhyun’s legs with his own and settled between them. Soft like a ragdoll kitten, the other allowed Chanyeol to press soft kisses on his watery eyelids, tip of the nose, the space just above his chin, temples — until the pull, gravitational in that it was near impossible to ignore, became too strong. Chanyeol was only a man.  
  
“May I?” he asked, voice coming out all sorts of throaty against Baekhyun’s lips. “Free of charge?”  
  
There was an abrupt silence, one so sticky and out of place it almost sucked all the color out of Baekhyun’s skin as soon as recognition checked in. Suddenly, they were both remembering back in time. Back to when nothing could be proven. Back to when none of their words held any meaning at all.  
  
Somehow, those were the ones that stuck.  
  
“Screw you, seriously.” Baekhyun grumbled, just before he bridged the gap.  
  
The ensuing kiss felt wonderful, Chanyeol realized with a start, in a completely new, different way — _again_. Yearning clung to both men like a blanket absorbing every impulse, instead giving way for reams of mutual comfort, harmony, neverending patience. Kinship. There wasn’t one hurried movement, no ulterior motives on Chanyeol’s end save the nervous need to be intimate with the one he desired. It opened his eyes to a garden of possibilities. Every other feeling for example, and the sensations he might have never come to experience if it wasn’t for Baekhyun’s sudden appearance in his life. Chanyeol was curious to know what else he could show him if he let him.   
  
He promised himself then, he was going to let him.   
  
“God,” he gasped under his breath, “I missed being with you like this.”    
  
Baekhyun hummed in reply, slowly,  _timidly_  sliding one hand into Chanyeol’s hair. Even as he ran his fingertips across the skin of his nape; as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, coaxing a surprise moan out of the other; even as they both forgot how to breathe, the feeling remained the same. It was calming. How slow they were. How bashful.   
  
Neither Baekhyun nor Chanyeol were bashful people, but in that moment, their kisses told a different story. Of sweet, relaxed brushes they spoke, all of which eventually ended up being very soothing and cozy for the both of them. Chanyeol didn’t need to ask to know Baekhyun felt the same.   
  
Tenderness, in their case, never required passion to make it real.   
  
Drawing him in with the grace of a nympth, Baekhyun suddenly rolled his hips, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”  
  
Appropriately disoriented, it sure took Chanyeol a couple seconds to collect his thoughts. When he did, they spilled out of him nothing short of naturally — like a thousand fizzy stars popping off inside the planes of his mouth.   
  
“Oh, absolutely. Once I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk for at least a wee—”  
  
“Not that, you moron.” Baekhyun interrupted, avoiding his eyes. “I mean a... a r-relationship.”   
  
_Oh._ “Same response. Absolutely.”  
  
Along with another ripple of drowsiness, Chanyeol could feel a beautiful smile blossoming on Baekhyun’s features, obvious in the way he bit his bottom lip. The way he turned his head away as if to counteract his true feelings when it was apparent Chanyeol's enthusiasm must have pleased him to no end.  
  
“It’s not going to be easy.” Baekhyun, regardless, wearied. “Will it?”  
  
Processing the question, Chanyeol tucked one strand of hair behind Baekhyun’s ear. At the end of the day, he knew reality didn’t change just because he did. A man with another man was like catnip to the media at best. Rat poisoning to his career at worst.   
  
“I’m not gonna give up unless you do.”  
  
The public. The family. The fear of being considered anything less than perfect.  
  
“Never.” It all seemed so brilliantly pointless now. “I’m yours now. No refunds accepted.”  
  
Eyes flashing with genuine gut-feeling, Chanyeol snorted good naturedly. Similar to that night a couple weeks back, Baekhyun’s complexion was completely colored; Chanyeol, still hung up on his emotions, loved it to pieces. Baekhyun’s face—or rather, his expressions—were so dearly loved by Chanyeol because they portrayed so many different emotions, vulnerability, weakness, sensitivity; so much so that he couldn’t help but start looking for it in himself. In a corner of his chest Chanyeol, at some point in his life, was sure had withered completely. One he thought he would never get back.   
  
“You’re so fucking special.” Diving back down to connect their lips, Chanyeol closed his eyes in pure bliss. Pure relief. “Everything you say is so adorable. You’re so fucking cute.”  
  
Baekhyun was grinning against his teeth, causing Chanyeol to do the same.   
  
“I know.” he replied in between short, closed mouth kisses, rubbing his thumbs along the sides of the elder’s nape. The playful glint in his eyes was slowly returning, and something Chanyeol didn’t know he needed in his life until now.   
  
Now, he couldn’t imagine living without it. “I love you.”  
  
“I kno—ow!” Baekhyun yelped after being pinched in the side. “Fine, I love you too! You’re cute too! Happy?”  
  
Amidst the banter, Chanyeol felt like he finally matched the weight of his pockets. A rich man. Wealthy like no other, for love met all his needs.  
  
Happy didn’t even begin to describe it.   
  
“Yes.” he smiled. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would ya look at that: it started with dogs and ended with dogs! perfectly balanced, as all things should be. 
> 
> anyway, this is it!! ^ㅅ^ let me know what you thought of this story down below, and in the meantime, feel free to stay subscribed because i /will/ be posting an epilogue at some point. (bbh’s graduation, aka an excuse for me to write smut lol)
> 
> but until then, thank you for making it this far! kudos and comments always make my day, so please keep ‘em coming. 
> 
> much love. ♡


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